A Terrible, No Good Day
by vok
Summary: Little Lee is having a bad day.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Terrible, No Good Day.

AN: A little Lee story.

Rating: K

* * *

Lee didn't mean to be bad. He never did. Today, especially. Today his father was supposed to come home. So he had gotten up early to make sure everything was perfect. Except he had trouble with the stove, burnt the eggs, and got yelled at for almost causing a fire. He tried to help Zac finish his homework, but Zac got mad, and Lee's own carefully done homework had ended up in the toilet – when all the screaming ended, Lee had been the one in trouble.

Things didn't get better at school. Even when he told everyone how his father was coming home that day – his father who was a hero. Lee thought – if that didn't make other kids like him, nothing would. But it didn't.

After school he remembered to pick Zac up from the grade two classroom, made sure to hold his hand when they crossed the street. Once safely across they started running - Lee half dragging Zac as they chanted 'Dad's home dad's home dad's home'.

Except when they hurdled their way over the curb, scrambled up the stairs, pushed their way through the main door – the house was dark.

"Hello?" Lee called. "Dad? Mom?"

Zac hadn't let go of his hand. Lee heard a noise coming from upstairs. He stared at his brother. Led him to basement and turned on the TV. They weren't allowed to watch TV. He left Zac and climbed the stairs to the main floor, climbed the stairs again to the second floor. Then, moving oh so silently, he crept to his parent's bedroom door. The glass knob was cold and slippery in his hand but he turned it carefully, pushing the door open. The room was dark. There was a single shape in the blankets on the bed, an empty bottle on the bedtable. Lee bit his lip.

"Mom?" His whispered voice wavered. He moved closer. "Mom? It's ok. It's me."

His mom didn't move. He raised his voice. "Mom!"

She didn't move. With a trembling hand (she never liked it when he found her like this – he always got in trouble) he touched her arm. Then shook it. "Mom, please. Dad's sorry. He'll come. He's coming. He's just late. Please mom. He can't find you like this. He wouldn't understand."

But she still didn't move. He shook her again, harder, making her head rock back and forth, his rising panic fading as she finally moaned in response, her hand flopping sideways in protest. "Mom," he whispered, mouth to her ear. "Com'on. You can't do this to us."

An empty pill bottle rolled from the covers and his panic rose again, pushing the oxygen out of the room. .

* * *

"Com'on Zac." Lee ignored his brother's whining as he turned off the television. "I said com'on!"

"Is Dad here yet?"

Lee shook his head, grabbing his brother's hand. "Zac, com'on. Now."

"Lee, you're hurting me!"

Lee dropped his brother's hand as if it burned. Taking a breath. "I'm sorry. But we have to hurry."

"Why?"

But Lee didn't answer. Just lead the way up and out the house, back through the door they had tripped through so excitedly a few moments before. He should have known. His father's coat wasn't hanging on the hook, his father's boots weren't lined up on the boot rack next to his mother's heel and zipper boots. He should have known. He shouldn't have been so stupid.

"Where we going?"

"To Margaret's."

"Oh kissey kissy" Zac started to make the strangest noises as Lee grabbed his brother's hand again, but gentler this time. Leading him back to the sidewalk, two doors down, and up another driveway. He rang the doorbell. Trying to ignore the shouts coming from within. Zac had stopped smooching his hand, staring up at the house in interest. "Am I going to play with Sally?".

The door opened, and Margaret was there, hair carefully pulled back with ribbons, wearing a dress Lee had never seen, black shoes with lacey socks. Behind her kids ran into each other, wearing pointy hats, as a puppy pulled apart wrapping paper. She was smiling, but when she saw Lee her face fell.

They spoke at the same time.

"I would have invited you but –"

"Hi – I –" Lee swallowed. "I don't have a present but I wondered-."

"- I didn't think you'd want to come."

"I was busy. And I don't – don't have a present."

She still stood there. Lee felt himself grow desperate. "I'm sorry. I know it's your birthday but I was hoping - is Sally there? Can Zac stay and play with her?"

As if she knew she was being summoned, Sally appeared next to her big sister. Blond curls falling into her eyes, face lighting up when she caught sight of Zac,

"Thac!" She called, flashing her toothless smile. Zac started giggling, revealing his own gap-toothed grin as Sally ordered him inside. They disappeared into the house packed with children, their high pitched voices pealing with laughter. .

"You can still come." Margaret shrugged. "If you want."

Lee shook his head. "I don't have a present."

"Well, ok." They both heard someone calling for her.

"I got to go."

"Me too."

Lee turned away before she could, hurried back the way he came. He needed to get things done. His mother – he had to fix his mother. His father could never, ever know. "Don't be stupid Lee," he whispered to himself. "Not now. Don't be stupid. Figure this out." There's always a solution, that's what his father always said. There is always a solution. Like figuring out how fast the plane would have to go, or when the train needed to leave the station. He just had to work hard enough. There was one here, he just had to be smart enough to find it. His mother needed him to be smart.

Back in the house he grabbed his mother's big coat. He couldn't call anyone – they would take her to the military hospital. That would be stupid. His father would know. He was nine. He wasn't a kid anymore. He could do this. He could figure this out. He stuck his hand into the coat's pocket, felt the first stirring of hope as he wrapped his fingers around the car keys.


	2. Chapter 2

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-

The first challenge was getting her out of bed. Break the problem down, son. Is what his father would say. Break it down into steps, make a plan, execute on the plan. 'Execute' was most definitely his father's word. Step one – bathrobe. Two – collect evidence (this was a good idea, because it also got rid of the evidence). Three - Sit his mom up, using pillows to lean her on, support her as he pulled her bathrobe across her shoulders, material flapping open, nightgown sliding down as she crumpled on top of him and DON'T LOOK, look at the ceiling, fasten the buttons but don't look, his fingers struggled blindly.

"Lee" She mumbled as though her mouth was full of marbles, through her hair. Jarbled.

"Mom, we have to get to the car."

They stand up for a second only to collapse again. He was able to redirect her back to the bed, keeping them off the floor, a flurry of tangled limbs, a flailing elbow catching him on the corner of his eye. A sharp knock of pain on his head as his mom started to silently laugh, body shaking. Step four! He had forgotten step four! Shoes! Stupid Lee Stupid. He'd never succeed if he kept on making mistakes like that. He found her slippers, kicked under her bed, put them on.

"Wait a second mom." He remembered the cane they had for Grandad. Step Five. He placed it in her hand, watched her weakly grasped it.

"Wher' r' e' owing.?"

"To see your friends."

But of course that was another lie as his mother didn't have any friends, not anymore. Not since they moved here. She never went out, never had people over. It was because being unhappy needed to be kept a secret. Lee understood that, he was good at keeping that secret.

But his mom seemed to accept his answer.

Step Six was to sit on the stairs, to slide down them on their bums the way he and Zac used to do. To fall down the stairs, that wouldn't be good. Then he'd really have problems.

Step Seven – coat on over the nightgown. His mom mumbled something at that point, trembling hand pointing at the hat, the other clutching Lee's arm. Lee handed it to her, watching her put it on her head and pull it down low over her eyes. He grabbed her purse.

Step Eight – to the car. Supporting her, trying not to look like it. Easing her into the passenger seat. Fastening her seatbelt, locking her in.

Step Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve - back to the house, grabbing a bottle of water, locking the door.

Step Thirteen. Start the car. Slide to the end of the seat to reach the steering wheel and the pedals. Put it in gear. Check your mirrors. Wait for the street to clear. Slowly slowly slowly touch the gas.

The car shivered with power, Lee's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he pulled out onto the road. He had never driven before, not even on his father's knee. But he had played lots of video games, and for the last six months, every time his mother drove them anywhere, Lee had paid very very close attention.

"A good solider," his father would say, "anticipates."

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-

He drove cautiously, but not unusually slowly. Like an aged grandfather, hugging the wheel, peering out from beneath the oversized hat he wore, hiding his face the best he could. He successfully left hand turned, merged from his empty neighborhood streets onto the busier road (he had known all his road signs since he was Zac's age). Chose not to worry about the speed limit but rather to just keep pace with the other cars. There were blue H signs marking the way to the hospital. There was one turn that he did misjudge, scrapping the wheel along the curb, but all in all, in a day of bad things, illegally driving his parents' car with his passed out mother in the passenger seat was a bit of a highlight. The plan was working.

He pulled up to Emergency entrance behind the ambulance, jumped out of the car, ran inside yelling for help. People in all sort of colours came running out – then it was just activity. Tons of people where it had previously been just him and her. They tried to talk to her, but she responded even less to them than she had to him. A gurney was there and they effortlessly lifted her up onto it – then someone dressed in pink was peering at him, asking him questions like 'what happened, when was she found, how did she get here?'

"My dad drove. He found her," Lee didn't want to tell her a lie, he wasn't supposed to lie. But if he told the truth now he'd never stop, and all the things that needed to be secret wouldn't be anymore. He forced himself to keep going. "Uh about an hour ago. He drove. She was drinking and uh .. he said she took some pills."

"An hour ago!" the lady-in-pink eyes opened wide in shock. "Why didn't he call the ambulance? Why didn't he call 911? Where is he now?"

Lee could feel the tears building, desperately blinking them back. "I don't know! Is she going to be ok? Is it too late? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her eyes narrowed and for a second Lee thought it was up. That she would call the police and he'd get in trouble for the driving, the police would call his father who would find out about his mother, people would find out about the secrets that they couldn't know. But instead she leaned in, touching the side of his face. Lee flinched at the unexpected flash of pain. He'd forgotten about the elbow. .

Her eyes went sad, her mouth pinching together in the universal sign of anger. "Nice," she said, speaking more to herself, "nice." She patted Lee gently on the shoulder, bending down to his level, talking to him the way adults talked to Zac sometimes. "Well, when he comes back, how about you tell me? Okay Sweety?"

Lee nodded. Her hand released his shoulder.

"It's okay. Don't worry. Everything is going to be okay."

But Lee had told enough lies to know one when he heard it.

Emergency was chaotic and overwhelming. His mother disappeared into a hallway, surrounded by people speaking large words really quickly – a few minutes later, someone else did as well, with the exact same commotion and confusion. Lee took a deep breath. It was nothing unusual. This is what happened at hospitals. People go in sick and come back better. His mother would be fine. The plan had worked. He hadn't been too late. He hadn't made a mistake. She would be okay.

In a strange way he liked the Emergency Room. Here there were gunshot wounds, heart attacks, babies crying feverishly, broken bones cradled protectively, the elderly just sitting there – waiting with all their inside illnesses. Here, everyone else had their own problems- personal, private, as big as worlds, just like his own. He just wanted to stay here and rest until his mother walked out of that hallway she disappeared into, held out her hand for him, took him home (making sure he wore his seatbelt), and tucked him to bed, kissed him goodnight, even if he pretended not to like it. All that would happen - all he had to do was wait, and he could do that.

In an effort to avoid any further attention, but to stay as informed as possible, Lee scouted himself out a chair that was tucked between the intake area and a filing cabinet. The top of his head barely cleared the counter. Here he could just sit silently and overhear the doctors, nurses' conversations and even their phone calls. Most of it was incomprehensible, but it was a good position, tactically. His father would approve, he was pretty sure.

As a result he was perfectly placed to overhear a conversation between the lady-in-pink from earlier and the admittance nurse.

"The kid's asshole father? He show up yet?"

"Not that I know of."

"God I'm so sick of guys like him. He should be brought up on charges of child abandonment. Not to mention manslaughter."

And just like that – Lee's world ended.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I see I've hooked at least a few people with my little AU (and it is an AU, about the only thing I know about this for sure is that it is an AU). That and I am writing this as I go – so wish me luck!

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-

There was a humming in Lee's ears. Rushing blood, or an air conditioner, a machine, or maybe just voices talking together and over each other and simultaneously so that he couldn't focus to pick comprehensible words out of the sea of sounds.

He stood up. His motions silent, he was sure he could have screamed and not have broken through the cocoon of white noise surrounding him. He needed to – he couldn't stay here. He couldn't.

He stepped out through the double sliding doors, out into the fresh air, the sunset like a thousand sunsets before, warming everything in tones of amber and rose. It was only then that he remembered the car.

In a daze he looked around, searching for the nearest parking lot. He had left the keys in the car, amazed that he could remember that detail. Maybe someone moved it. He needed – well he just couldn't leave it.

He finally tracked it down in one of the parking lots, neatly slotted into a spot. The doors unlocked – the keys missing - he did the only thing he could think of – he crawled into the back seat, hand pausing on Zac's toy viper left there from their ride to school that morning.

His plan had gone terribly. He hadn't been smart enough, he hadn't tried hard enough. He hadn't been good enough.

He curled up under an old blanket, clutching the toy viper that once upon a time had been his, before he had gotten too old.

And for the first time that day, in that horrible, no good day, he started to cry.

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-

Commander William Adama had confronted a great number of strange experiences in his life. Had fought disorientating battles from the cockpit of a Viper Mark II doing inverted dives. Had dealt with the baffling and sometimes downright bizarre bureaucracy of the military. But he had never been as confused and lost as he was right now – standing alone in the centre of his dark and empty house.

He was late. Last minute ends to tie up before his leave, shuttle delayed for mechanical reasons, general scheduling incompetence of being booked on a commercial flight that didn't, in the end, actually exist ('we discontinued that flight two months ago. We informed the military at that point.' the 'Sir' tacked on by the civilian as an afterthought). In short, Situation Normal – All Frakked Up.

So he was late – he hadn't expected the boys to be up, perhaps Caroline would have waited up, or at least left a light on. But the taxi had driven by the house twice before the driver had been able to find it in the darkness. (He had felt like an idiot, not knowing where exactly his house was, that he merely knew 'it was around here somewhere – number 2256')

He hadn't expected the house to be absolute empty – the boys' room deserted. His and Caroline's room the same – and a mess to boot. Leaving his luggage where he had dropped it, he moved into the kitchen, wondering if someone had left a note. Instead he was greeted by the flashing light on the answering machine, indicating seven new messages.

The first message was his own, explaining that he would be a bit late. Clearly Caroline never got it. The next was from a woman, the sounds of a children's birthday party in the background – indicating that she had Zac and when would they like to come pick him up? Please call at anytime.

The other five messages were also from her, each progressively shorter and the voice more shrill and irritated. The sixth one was just a hang up.

Glancing at the jotted down number, Bill picked up phone, prepared to follow the only clue he had to his vanished family. Twenty minutes later he had a sleepy Zac on his shoulder, and a grumpy and relieved neighbor, who had given him a look that spoke volumes about her opinion on the level of parenting going on in the Adama household.

Unfortunately, Zac had no better idea of where Lee and Caroline were. Which was to say, he had none. He said he came home from school and Lee dropped him off at Margaret's birthday party to play with Sally. Although as near as Bill could tell – neither of the kids had actually been invited. The mother – Joyce – hadn't meet Bill's gaze when she explained that Lee – well Lee – you understand - the other kids didn't really like being around him. He was different. A comment Bill couldn't even begin to decipher at that moment.

The phone rang. He automatically picked it up, cradling it in one hand, Zac still in his arms. Fingers turning white as he identified himself as William Adama, and he heard the words: "This is St. Xavier's - I'm afraid there has been an incident… can't release details over the phone … we suggest you get here as soon as you can."

It wasn't until he was halfway out the door in a panicked rush that he realized the car was gone.

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-

Lee was dreaming. It was a dream where it was summer and they were all at the lake, in a boat. His father rowing, his mother laughing, as they both sang silly sea ditties and he and Zac hung off the sides, dragging their fingers through the water. One or the other of their parents catching them by their belts when they leaned just a little too far. Then the sun went in, and the wind came up, and he was rowing, and his father was gone, and his mother fell overboard and he screamed and screamed, diving after her, the water so dark and cold – deeper and deeper until he woke up with a start. Remembering where he was, realizing that the car was moving. He lifted his head. Maybe it had all been a dream, and it was just a family car trip home from the lake, from Colonial Day celebrations like they had all planned. That Zac was beside him, his parents upfront, maybe his mother's head resting on his father's shoulder.

He lifted his gaze. Zac wasn't beside him. Upfront were two people, both men. Neither of which was his father. He curled back up under the blanket. He just – he just wanted to go back to sleep, back to his dream of his family, the way it had been at the beginning, in the past. Leave this nightmare of the present behind. He squeezed his eyes closed as tight as he could, but nothing happened. Nothing changed.

-BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG--

William Adama hated the emergency room. The noise, chaos, all these people, their tragedies hanging over their heads, helpless. Flies in the webs of the Three Fates.

After the phone call, he had been forced to go back to his neighbor – that woman - forced to explain what had happened, forced to ask her to take care of Zac, forced to ask her to borrow her car.

Joyce was a military wife. She hadn't said anything. Merely taking the sleeping Zac from Bill, handing him her car keys. Giving him a written copy of directions to civilian hospital.

He drove it as fast as he could. Got to St. Xavier's in fifteen minutes. Headed towards the main doors only to be stopped by Military Police. Looking around for the first time since he had arrived, he realized that it wasn't just Military Police. But all levels and jurisdictions, swarming around the building, the parking lots.

He identified himself, demanded to know what was going on.

"Prisoner's escaped from custody, Sir." They told him. "We're locking down the hospital, the surrounding area. We apologize for the inconvenience, but you'll have to wait."

-BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG--

"Who the hell are you?"

Lee didn't know what had given him away. Just that one moment he'd been peering out from under a corner of the blanket, and in the next it was gone, and he was looking up the barrel of a pistol. The car swerved to a stop, knocking Lee into the window, rattling his teeth.

"I said - Who the hell are you?"

Lee swallowed, shaken. "No … no one. The car was unlocked. I was tired. And I – I'm running away."

"Frak- we don't have time for this!" Now that the car was stopped the driver had also turned around. He nodded at the man in the passenger seat. "Deal with him."

The man frowned. "What the frak is that supposed to mean?"

"We're already late. You figure it out."

"We don't kill little kids."

The driver snorted. "Whatever. That bleeding heart of yours is going to get us all in trouble."

Lee couldn't take his eyes off the gun.

"I'm running away." He repeated. "To somewhere. A city or something."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you, kid?"

Lee shrugged, not sure what to say. It didn't really matter, anyway. His mother was dead. He had killed her.

"Oh what did you do? Steal some candy? Fight with your girlfriend?"

Lee shook his head. Suddenly overwhelmed.

"I killed – " the rest of the sentence choked in his throat – "someone."

"Hmm. Maybe there is some potential in you after all." The driver muttered. The other silenced him with a look before turning it on Lee.

Lee didn't flinch under the evaluating gaze.

"Quite the little solider you are, aren't you?"

"Yes Sir."

"Your parents?"

The answer fell off Lee's lips easily. "Dead."

The two men exchanged glances. "Maybe we could use this one." The passenger suggested. He leaned over, just as a car drove past them, its headlamps illuminating a rugged face, piercing intelligent eyes, strong cheekbones framed with dark shaggy hair. The man held out his hand.

"Tom. Tom Zarek."

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG-


	4. Chapter 4

AN: So glad to see people enjoying this! Hopefully you'll cut me a little authorial slack as needed? ;-)

-BSG-BSG-BSG

"Tom. Tom Zarek."

From his position, half on half off the back seat, Lee reached up awkwardly to shake the offered hand as he'd been taught. Tom Zarek. He didn't know why but the name sounded familiar to him, somewhere, he had heard it before, but he couldn't quite remember where, or why it made him uneasy. He opened his mouth to say his name but some inner, un unarticulatable suspicion worked to change the words at the last minute. "Lex Adamson."

Tom shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Lex." Lee said nothing, letting his hand drop back down.

"He's not going to like this." The driver muttered.

"Relax, Leon."

The man drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, fingers fiddling with the car keys. His mother's. Lee had to look away as he was hit by a wave of memories. He didn't want to think of her. Of anything about her. The pain sharp and unbearable.

"Whatever." Leon finally said. "We're running out of time. We've got to - Oh Gods." He swore. As one, Zarek and Lee looked forward, following Leon's gaze, seeing the flashing red and white lights in the distance.

"Dammit. They've noticed. They're shutting down the roads. What are we going to do?" Despite the fact that the driver was older, he turned to Zarek.

Zarek studied the police cars ahead of them, then glanced back at Lee.

"A good solider," Zarek said, "always makes use of what's at hand."

Lee started at Zarek's choice of words. Then carefully nodded his head in agreement.

-BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG-

Bill was angry. He was worried, confused, but most of all he was angry. Whoever was in charge of this operation was frakking things up but good. This was a hospital. The police were in effect interfering with injured people seeking help. It was totally unacceptable. Bill was used to being on the other side of the line, the one giving the orders, and he was discovering that he did not like this at all.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The officer in front of him said again, politely. "But we can not let anyone into the hospital any further until I've been given the clear."

Bill wrestled his anger back down. Deciding to deal with this rationally. Aware that he wasn't the only person stuck out here when their loved ones were inside.

"There are people here who are hurt. You can't just ignore them."

"It's not my call, Sir."

Bill let out an exasperated breath. "Who is it – that's worth all of this?"

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that."

Bill was beginning to doubt that he even knew. There were too many people here, agents and organizations that he wasn't familiar with, who weren't familiar with him. He did not like it all.

"Get your superior officer down here right now, or let me through. But this ends now. My wife and son are in there, and they need me. You fix this right now or I swear to you I will make the remaining years of your service absolute hell. I don't care that this isn't your fault, I don't care that you are following orders. My child is in there. My wife is in there, and frankly there isn't a thing you could say to me right now that would come even close to stopping me from pulling your improperly secured sidearm and ending it my way. Am I being clear?"

The man, a boy really, paled. Fumbling with his radio. "Y-yes Sir."

For the first time, Bill felt like he had wrestled back the smallest ounce of control.

A few minutes later he was desperately trying to hold onto that feeling as he sat in the darkened room clutching his wife's hand, watching her chest oh so slowly rise and fall. Her face pale and lax, a waxed, mummified version of the woman who had stolen his breath away when he first meet her. Who had glowed brighter than the sun on their wedding day, who had been so alive when she had held the newborn Lee in her arms. She had seemed as solid as the planet beneath his feet. His planet. What had happened, between then and now?

"Carolanne," he whispered, dropping his forehead to the back of her fingers. "What happened?"

Nothing but silence, broken by the sound of the machines. And oh Gods but where, he wondered, was Lee? Even if he could bring himself to ask her, she wasn't going to answer.

"It's most likely a cry for help." A soft voice came from behind him. Bill glanced up, to see a grey haired lady, dressed in the blue scrubs of the nursing staff. Clipboard in hand, glasses dangling around her neck, solid, sensible running shoes. She looked like a baker, her hair a bun on her head. "Overdosed on alcohol. She probably wasn't trying to actually end her life. "

There was nothing accusing in her words. But Bill offered up his guilt anyway.

"I was late. If I'd been home earlier." He paused, swallowing, before adding softly "Or at all."

"She probably thought that you were going to find her."

"But I was late." Bill repeated. "So –"

"So it went farther than she thought, and your son found her when he got home from school, and brought her in."

"You saw Lee?" Bill focused snapped to her. "Was he okay? Where is he?"

The soft skin of her face blossomed with baby-fine wrinkles as she smiled warmly at him. "He was fine." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I was there when he brought her in. This little kid, being so big, trying so hard. Those eyes..." She squeezed gently. "Well, you can always spot the military kids a mile away."

Bill turned towards, not wanting to lose this unexpected, fragile link to his son.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I saw him, waiting, he'd tucked himself away in a corner so you could barely remember he was there. I got called away, when I got back he was gone."

Bill clutched her hand. Overwhelmed by the panic of a parent who had lost their child. Through it her quiet, reasonable voice pierced his anxiety.

"We'll find him. All these police crawling over this place, they are locking down the roads. He'll be found."

It wasn't much, but it was hope, and it was enough.

--BSG—

Lee fingered the white swath of bandage that was wrapped around his wrist – done expertly. He could feel Zarek watching him, and he laid it back in the impromptu sling that they had pulled together out of the first aid kit in the truck. 'A good solider – prepares for every eventuality.' Zarek had moved into the driver spot, Lee beside him in the front passenger seat, a small figure leaning against the door, guarding his wrapped arm. Leon was crouched behind the seat, on the floor, blanket shielding him as much as possible. Gun in hand. Lee knew without being told, without looking, that it was pointed at him. Zarek was driving sedately towards the check stop, a slight smile on his face, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

"You better make this real kid," Leon hissed from directly behind Lee's ear. "Or I'll break your frakking arm for real."

Lee looked at Zarek for reassurance, the smiled hadn't diminished, but when he spoke he was deadly serious. "If the guard asks you a question do not look at me before answering it. Understand? They will be watching for that. You cannot look at me."

Lee swallowed and nodded slightly. Nothing else was said as they pulled up to the road block preventing unauthorized traffic in or out of the hospital. A guard waved them down, as another emerged from the patrol car sitting there.

The first one knocked on Lee's window, and he awkwardly unrolled it, using his unwrapped arm.

"Where you two headed?"

"Just home, officer," Zarek replied easily. "It's been a long day." He nodded towards Lee's arm.

"Anything in the back?" The guard was a large burly black man who didn't waste time on superfluous questions.

"Just some of my son's stuff. To make him feel better."

Lee nodded. Managing not to look at Zarek, somehow saying: "My toys. Uh." He wracked his brain, trying to think of what else to say as the guard was still staring at him. "A viper."

The guard smiled at him. "So you want to be a viper pilot?"

The other guard was making her way around the car. Lee nodded. Focus he told himself. "Yes. I like to fly."

"You sound pretty sure."

Lee didn't know how to reply to that. He was sure. It was frequently the only thing he was sure about. Then again, that was before. He decided to just nod in agreement.

The radio in the police car started to chip as the second guard finished her sweep. She made her way back to the car. Lee kept his eyes on her.

"Bit of a bruise on your head, son."

Lee shrugged.

"How'd you hurt your arm?"

"Huh?"

"How'd you hurt your arm?"

Besides him Lee was sure Zarek was still smiling his unconcerned smile. He forced himself not to glance over for direction. He could do that. "A tree." He croaked. "I fell out of a tree." The guard wasn't buying it, Lee could tell the way he leaned in closer, for a better look at Lee's bandage. Lee could feel Leon minutely shifting behind him, trying to get in a better position, get a clearer shot at this guard. Lee couldn't let that happened. He smiled, mimicking Zarek, saying desperately. "Dad told me not to climb the tree."

Zarek nodded beside him. "Kids," he offered.

By now the lady-guard had answered the car's radio. Was talking while looking at them both. Behind him Lee felt more than heard Leon releasing the safety on the gun.

Leon would shoot. He knew he would. It would be Lee's fault.

Now the lady guard was staring at him now, just him. Scrutinizing him. Her head angled to the side, her gaze flicking to Zarek and then back to him. Narrowing as she raised the radio back to her mouth, and just like that, Lee knew she knew. He didn't know how, but she knew! Leon figured it a split second later, gun coming up, the first shot taking the guard out that was still leaning slightly through the open window, to get a better look at Lee's arm. His body froze than slumped through the window. Lee screamed as the lady guard pulled a gun, but Leon was faster and got a shoot off that knocked her to the ground.

Zarek had floored the pedal on the car, and fishtailing across both lanes as they accelerated away from the carnage.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP OR THE NEXT BULLET GOES THROUGH YOUR SKULL."

Lee swallowed his screaming. Hyperventilating. His body shuddering as he buried his face in his arms.

In the hospital, in the cobbled together communication center, Bill listened as the bored perfunctionary radio chatter of patrol was broken by the unmistakable metal sound of shots fired. His son's screaming voice flooded over the line, then abruptly cut off.

Empty static filled the room for a split second before all hell broke loose.

-BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG--BSG


	5. Chapter 5

AN: At this point, I'm not sure who in this little universe isn't having a bad day :-) thanks for reading!

-BSG—

The static that filled the room broke.

"Scramble all cars." The Officer in charge ran his finger over the map currently spread out on top of a nearby desk. "We've got officers down there." He pointed a thick sturdy finger at a point, "where the shots were fired. Direct cars 76 and 39 to up here." He gestured in a sweeping motion, "and we cut them off. Force them into the old train yards, surround them there."

"We could drop them back, bring up air support." Bill spoke from the other side of the table, glancing at the upside down map . "Follow them, avoid direct confrontation."

"Can't risk losing them. It would take too long. There are no helicopters in the area."

"The hospital does med-evacs –"

The officer straightened and took a step forward, forcing Bill to retreat as his space was invaded. "You are here as a courtesy only, Adama." The dropping of his rank was not missed by Bill. "Understood?"

Bill nodded. Taking in the Officer's name – Turgeon.

"I do understand." He managed to speak calmly. "But my son is in that car."

"We don't know that."

Bill's eyes narrowed. "We don't know he isn't."

"Those two men are the priority." Turgeon turned back to the radio, toggling it. "Stop the car – you are authorized to use whatever forced is required."

"Roger that."

-BSG-BSG-BSG-BSG

In the car, Lee was sobbing silently, half-hitching breaths, as he curled up against the door, hanging on for dear life. He was sticky with drying blood, covered with glass from where a stray bullet had shattered the passenger window. Zarek and Leon were yelling at each other, even as the rear window exploded in fragments - the noise an explosion, unbearably loud in the confined space of the car.

"Frak!" Zarek swore as he momentarily lost control of the car, sending it into oncoming traffic. "Give us some warning next time, okay?"

Leon reloaded the shotgun, watching in grim satisfaction as the car following them backed off. "Someone's got to save our asses." He chucked a revolver to the front. "Reload."

Zarek glanced at Lee.

"Lex?"

Lee didn't hear him, couldn't hear anything except screaming in his head.

"LEX!"

Lee jerked back to reality.

"Listen to me carefully, can you do that?" In contrast to all the earlier noise, Zarek was speaking softly now, forcing Lee to focus on him. "Take a deep breath."

Lee stared at him for a few seconds before opening his mouth and shakily inhaling.

"Hold it. Now breathe out slowly." At Zarek's nod of encouragement, Lee did what he was told.

"Again." Zarek ordered.

Lee compiled as his head started to clear. The screaming in his mind had died down, he could hear his thoughts again,

"Better?"

Lee nodded.

"Now reach into the bag at your feet."

For the first time Lee noticed the black sack on the floor. He bent down, fingers finding the zipper, pulling it open.

"You know how to load a revolver?"

Lee glanced at the still warm gun lying next to him. He picked it up. It wasn't easy but with a bit of effort he managed to thumb the cylinder release hatch and thread two fingers through it. The trembling of his hands stilling as he focused on lining up the ammunition. A few more seconds and he had snapped the cylinder back into the place, fully loaded. Handle up, he held it towards Zarek, who was once again scrutinizing him carefully.

"You ever done that before?"

Lee shook his head. "Did I do it wrong?"

"No," Zarek refocused on the road as they careened around a corner, tires squealing in protest.

"You did it good, perfect."

Lee gave a faint smile.

Leon snatched it out of Lee's hands as another gun bounced into his lap.

"Can you do it again?"

Lee nodded.

"Enemy at 10 o clock!" Leon shouted as a hail of bullets scrapped across the roof of the car, one shattering the windshield of Lee's parents' car. Once again Zarek was forced into a right hand turn.

"I don't like this." Leon muttered. "They're herding us."

Zarek nodded. "I know. They're hoping to drive us into the old railyards."

"We can't be captured. We can't risk it. Not now."

Lee watched as the two men exchange a glance. Zarek nodded, face determined. Behind him Lee heard Leon whisper "Hear us Lords of Kobal…"

Another flurry of shots shattered a window as Zarek grimly wrenched the steering wheel, bouncing them over the curb, onto a grassy lawn before doing a three-sixty spin. The car whined, for a second Lee thought the engine was going to stall. It rallied and Zarek once again hit the accelerator as they plowed back onto the road, heading back the way they came.

Suddenly instead of running away from the chasing police cars they were heading straight for them.

"Kid – Think you can shoot that thing?" Leon shouted at him.

Lee looked down at the weapon he'd just re-loaded. He nodded.

"Then get to it."

Beside him he could hear Leon screaming that this wasn't going to work, beneath him he could feel the engine working harder and harder, its ever increasing whine as Zarek continued to accelerate towards the police cars that had hastily formed a blockade. But they hadn't been expecting Zarek's move, and in their rush to block the retreat, they had left a space in their standard formation. It was small, but it was there. The officer's were out of their cars, now, tucked behind doors, guns raised. Lee felt his hair lift and part as a bullet flew pass his skull, heard Leon's corresponding oath. They were close, and there were too many of them. Lee glanced up at Zarek – who was no longer smiling, but instead just looked a little sad, a little defiant, with something that might even be called relief stamped across his features. Lee stared, suddenly understanding that Zarek wasn't expecting this to work - that there was no way they were going to be able to get through the hail of bullets they were driving full speed into, no way to fit through the small gap. With utter clarity, Lee realized that he was going to die at this moment. Gripping his weapon as tight as he could, he closed his eyes, pulled the trigger. His last thought was of his mother and whether she'd waited for him.

Forty feet left to go, Zarek gunned the car forward, flashing back to when he was ten years old. He knew he had been living on borrowed time since, didn't really regret his choices. Not in the way some might think. Thirty feet, his foot remained rock solid, pinning the gas pedal to the floor. Then, with twenty feet to go, the bullets stopped.

Everything froze for a split second, then speed forward, even faster than before as they rammed into the first car. Zarek momentarily lost control as the car slid sideways into one black and white, bouncing off it with such force that Zarek felt his teeth rattle in his jaw. Anything unattached went flying forward at the sudden deceleration. Leon had lost his grip on his shotgun and it slammed into the remains of the windshield, narrowing missing Zarek's head, crushing the kid's toy viper. As if in slow motion, the car sidescrapped the second car, metal grinding on metal, sparks flying, before like a much abused pinball it emerged on the otherside of the blockade. Zarek couldn't believe it. It had threaded the needle.

They had made it.

From behind him, Zarek heard Leon groan. "I couldn't hurt this much if I was dead. What the frak happened?"

"At the last moment - they stopped firing." Zarek replied, his voice expressionless.

"Why?"

"I have no idea. They just stopped." A bit of the Zarek grin was back. "We're alive. We made it."

Leon gave a shout. "Give me blood and I will give you freedom! The Gods, Zarek. It must have been the Gods! Oh Gods hear my thanks. That I shall never doubt, and for nothing can I want with your love guiding me."

Zarek loosened his death grip on the steering wheel, but kept his foot firmly on the gas. They weren't home yet. He glanced over at the passenger seat.

The kid wasn't moving, body slouched sideways, hanging loosely in his seatbelt.

-BSG-BSG-BSG

The silence in the communications room was broken as Bill clicked the safety back on, lowering the weapon from Turgeon's temple. He did not drop his eyes.

"You, Adama," Turgeon hissed, his voice low and vicious, "have just made the biggest mistake of your career."

"My son was in that car. I couldn't let you...." Bill carefully placed the gun on the table.

Turgeon shouted back into the radio. "Rescind that last order! Rescind! Go after them with all required force. Shoot to kill." He turned back to Bill. "You are under arrest. Do you know what you just did? What you just let happen?" Turgeon shouted again at the other officer. "Arrest this man!"

"Turn around, face the wall. Now, Sir!"

Bill obeyed the command, repeating simply, "my son was in that car."

He refused to flinch as the cold metal of the cuff's slid across his skin. Tightening then locking around his wrists.

"My son was in that car."

-BSG-BSG-BSG-BSG


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Guys! Stop encouraging me! Your reviews are like crack! I'm supposed to be working on like, real work! The kind that pays! Not spending four hours writing this!

!

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG

Leon was still whispering a prayer of thanks. Zarek still speeding away, Lee still unconscious, slouched against the car door, held in place by the seatbelt…

They were deep in the city before Zarek finally started to relax, slowing the car down. As if on cue the engine started to clunk unhappily. He managed to urge the car to the side of the road before, with a metallic sigh, it lurched to a rest.

Leon, finished with his prayer, spoke up from the back. "We have to ditch this car anyway. Let's leave the kid, done. Get back on schedule."

Ignoring Leon's grumbling, Zarek leaned over the passenger seat where he caught the first sign of movement. Lee was beginning to stir. Blue eyes blinked once, unfocused.

"Am I dead?" He whispered.

"No kiddo, you aren't."

"Oh." Lee closed his eyes, fragments of an overhead conversation coming back to him. He opened them again.

"Please," he said. "Don't leave me."

Zarek scoffed. "You're a solider now kid, we don't leave our men behind." Then: "Can you walk?"

Lee nodded. Zarek exited the car, coming around to the passenger side, opening the door that was well-ventilated with bullet holes, unclipped the seatbelt, untangling it as necessary. Through it all the kid just looked around, a little bit too dazed for Zarek's taste.

"You sure?"

Lee nodded. But when he stood his legs buckled beneath him. Zarek grabbed him by the arms, holding him upright until Lee got his feet under him.

"Better?"

Lee nodded as Zarek loosened his grip.

"He's slowing us down." Leon complained.

"So are you."

"That's not my fault."

"It was your fault that you decided to get drunk and crash your car into a frakking ambulance. Tonight of all nights."

"I've been under a lot of pressure." Tolkesky wriggled his fingers.

Zarek frowned but said nothing. Tolkesky was a liability, not to mention a drunk. They'd known that from the start, but he also had the finest touch for explosives in the twelve colonies. Leaving him in that hospital to be apprehended by the authorities was inconceivable.

Lee took a step and almost fell again. With a sigh Zarek caught him again, this time just picking him up. "Let's move. They're going to find us soon." Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he could already hear the faint woop woop of a helicopter, closing in on them. The kid, too, was looking up to the sky, his little boy's interest in all things airborne still intact. Zarek followed his gaze, saw a small but bright light approaching. A military chopper. They had to move now.

"Come on. There's a parking lot half a block over. We'll pick up a ride there."

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG

Bill didn't spend enough time planet side to know exactly where he was. He had been escorted out of the hospital in handcuffs, flanked by two soldiers with insignia on their black uniforms that he didn't recognize. His request to say good-bye to Carolanne was denied. Patients and staff alike looking at him as if he was the criminal that had caused all this inconvenience. Through all the directed hostility a pair of warm eyes caught his attention. They belonged to the blue-scrubbed baker nurse from earlier. She caught his gaze, held it for two long seconds, making him focus on her, before nodding a promise. He gave a slight smile in thanks. Carolanne would understand. He had to find their son. He was shoved unceremoniously into the back of a waiting van. Locked in with no windows. The journey from that point on was dark and unremarkable, a number of disorientating turns, but ending under twenty minutes. When the doors opened, he found himself in an underground garage. From there he was lead to an elevator, down a hallway, before being placed in what he recognized as an interview room. He was wordlessly shackled to a chair, and left, facing the tell-tale large mirror.

He was kept waiting for five minutes, his position, cuffs still on, arms bound behind him, then attached to a chain, didn't give him much movement. It wasn't comfortable, but nor was it unbearable, and he forced himself to remain calm, to not pull against them, to not give anything away to whoever might be watching. He was going to get out of here. If he was going to be able to save his son, he had to remain in control. He would apologize, do whatever it would take. His family, his problem to fix. Needed to fix.

The door finally opened. Instead of Turgeon, a tall, slender woman entered, heels clicking confidently. Hair the shade of an old-world red wine, deep highlights set off by the harsh lights and her pale skin. In one hand she carried a rather thick file folder, in the other a paper bag, which she placed gently, almost reverently, on the table between them.

She paused for a second, sizing him up, frankly and unapologetically evaluating and dissecting him with sharp but reserved blue eyes. He met her gaze resolutely. She wasn't military, he was pretty sure, but whoever she was, he was prepared to deal with whichever devil he had to. He was confident he'd dealt with much worse.

He spoke first, breaking the silence.

"Won't you have a seat? I apologize for not standing, but…" He shrugged, rattling his chains.

Her expression didn't change. "It's fine. I'm not really one for formalities, anyway."

"Something we have in common, then."

Silence descended again. Seconds stretched into minutes, Bill counted his breaths, anything to stay in control. He wasn't going to break it this time. Not give in to her tactics.

She finally said: "I was hoping you would be willing to have a discussion, but this is getting us nowhere." She turned to leave.

"A discussion?" Bill couldn't believe his ears. "With me? I don't know anything. I'll discuss whatever the frack you want, but someone needs to tell me what the name of Gods is going on here. My son's missing, kidnapped by some unknown persons, that are apparently worth putting innocent civilians at risk for - no one will even tell me who –"

"Leon Tolkesky and Thomas Zarek."

Bill stopped talking, his mouth agape. "What? How is that possible?" He stared at her, speechless.

"I was hoping you'd tell us."

"What do you mean?"

"Well - it just seems unlikely that at the exact moment that Zarek broke Tolkesky out of the hospital, on the eve of what our sources tell us, is a significant terrorist action by their cell, your son just happened to have your car ready and waiting for them."

Bill's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you are implying, but that's not funny."

"Agreed."

"Lee is nine years old!"

"Three years ago they used a 14 year old boy to launch a suicide attack. Killed 32 innocent civilians – they were his classmates."

"I know my history." Bill growled. "But there is a huge difference between an angry depressed teenager, and a nine year old child. Besides, you don't know Lee. There is no way he would do anything like that. Never. He couldn't."

She eyed him. Then opened the file she'd brought, glasses slipping to the end of her nose as she read it over.

"Commander William Adama, served late in the Cylon War as both a Raptor and Viper pilot, first assignment being on Galactica. A gifted pilot, shooting down his first Cylon on his very first combat mission, receiving a commendation. Executive officer of the battlestar Columbia, before becoming the commander of the battlestar Valkyrie. Impressive, for someone barely forty." There was a question in her voice that he ignored. "Husband to Carolanne, nee Jenney, and father to two boys- Lee and Zac – aged nine and seven."

Bill interrupted her. "What is the point of this?"

She ignored him. "Always difficult- balancing work and family life in the service."

Bill felt his hackles rise. "We do okay."

She raised an eyebrow, and somehow that gesture was enough to force Bill to look away.

She flipped the file shut.

"Your wife is currently in St. Xavier's intensive care unit, in a coma from overdosing on pills and alcohol. All signs indicate that this is not a new pattern of behaviour. Your household spent over a five hundred cubits last month on alcohol. Has spent over three thousand cubits in the last six months. So either your wife has some extra-curricular entertainment expenses that she's been keeping from you or she has a serious problem that you knew nothing about. The medication she overdosed with was a combination of pain killers and under the counter, unscripted, anti-depression and anti-anxiety pills. Lee's teacher describes him as stressed and worried at school. That he doesn't get his homework done – "

"He's an A student." Bill defended. "A perfectionist."

"- But does well on tests, an indicator of an intelligent child whose homelife is unstable. His teacher goes on to say that he is a loner in class. Doesn't relate well to other kids. He spends recess alone reading, lunch hanging around the gym, or in the library. For a period of two weeks last term, he came to school without a lunch, same as Zac, except Zac has any number of friends giving him their apples, granola bars, even their desserts. His teacher asked Lee about where his lunch was, and he said that he was eating it in between classes. The next day, he and Zac had the exact same peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And every day after that. He has poor personal hygiene – both Zac and him wear the same clothes for weeks on end. Zac gets away with it – his classmates love him – but Lee doesn't.

She paused for breath. Bill just sat there, trying to wrap his mind around this information. Lee is different, he remembered the neighbor saying. The other kids don't really like to hang around with him. Not that it mattered. He had no idea it had gotten so bad. Oh Carolanne. Someone should have told him. This thought was immediately crushed by: No one should have needed to.

"And, earlier this year, the teacher caught him with Tom Zarek's book. Pretty precocious reading for a nine year old."

"He probably heard his Grandfather talking about it." For all Bill knew, Joseph could have given it to him. He rallied to his son's defense. "Look, it's clear that there have been a few problems," Bill admitted. "That doesn't mean anything. It doesn't make him a terrorist. Reading a book he probably didn't understand doesn't make him a terrorist."

"No- what it makes him is vulnerable."

She placed a photo in front of him. He recognized the car first. Shot up, beat up, but still recognizably Carolanne's car, down to the licence plates. Bill drew in a quick gasp at the extent of the damage. Oh gods, Lee.

She put down another, an enlarged close up of the first picture.

"There was a camera recording, earlier, when Zarek and Tolkesky ran the blockade."

The figure in the picture was fuzzy, but it was undeniable Lee - and in his hand, pointing towards the camera, was a gun.

Bill felt sick, he blinked. Looked closer. "It can't be real."

"It's real," she assured him.

Bill tried to raise his hands to rub at his eyes. Jerking against the cuffs instead.

"Then if this wasn't bad enough - enough cause for concern - in the midst of high priority recapture mission of dangerous targets, a highly decorated officer, the commander of one of our battleships, interferes. He holds a gun to the head of the anti-terrorist unit, permitting the suspects to get away, in his own car, no less."

"Charge me with whatever you want - he was going to kill my son!" Bill heard his voice rise into a shout. "I had to do something."

"Or maybe, you're working for the SFM, have used your influence over your son, the stress of it destroying your wife."

Speechless, Bill just stared at her. "You can't – " he finally croaked, "be serious."

"A decorated officer – your wife's connections to the Defense Committee. In some ways, you'd be perfect." She continued.

"Look – I did what I did because they were going to kill Lee!"

"And what did you accomplish? You're in here, no help to anyone, your son is still out there, his life in just, if not more danger, if you're to be believed. You accomplished nothing."

"Why are you doing this?" Bill's voice was low and weary. "What do you want from me? I'm not SFM, I know nothing about Tom Zarek, and as you've so clearly gone your way to point out, I know nothing about my family."

She leaned in. "I want to help you and your son. But in order to do that, I need you to understand that whatever family you thought you had sitting in your office, in their little square frames, that is not your family now. Maybe it never was. And until you face up to that, we are never going to get anywhere in detangling this mess in the time we have." She paused, sitting down across from him, eyelevel for the first time. "I don't know your son," she hesitated, repeating his words back to him, " but neither do you. Commander – I am not your enemy here. You are going to have to trust me."

He blinked. "Do you think my son is-" he couldn't say the words, "-with them?"

She held his gaze. "No," she shook her head, "Not like that, I don't. I think we have a terrible situation with a very special, very unhappy little boy. The Sagittarius Freedom Movement is preparing to launch an action tomorrow, and for whatever reason – whether he was targeted because he is your son and vulnerable, or if it really is just a sad matter of chance, your son is caught right in the middle of it. I think you are understandably out of your mind with worry about him. I want to help him, but believe me when I tell you that it's not going to be easy or straight-forward. Every anti-terrorist organization in this government is on full alert to stop whatever is going to happen tomorrow using whatever means possible. You are going to have to trust me."

"Are you a parent?"

She hesitated. Then shook her head. "I'm a school teacher."

"A school teacher?" For the first time that day, he felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Who dabbles in military interrogations and negotiations?"

Her smile was in her voice. "I'm … unique."

"That I can believe." He paused. "Let's start again?"

"I'd like that." She nodded towards the mirror, and it opened on her cue, letting in an officer who unlocked Bill's cuffs. He rubbed his wrists once before reaching out to accept her offered hand.

"William Adama."

"Laura Roslin."

Her hands were soft, warm, but her handshake firm and strong.

"Do you know anything?" Bill was desperate for information. "Where they might be, how he is?"

"We found your car, it was abandoned. There was a lot of blood, we can't tell whose it is but we believe your son is still alive."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "There was no body."

Bill shook his head, meeting her gaze. "That's not a good enough reason. To hope."

"I know. But we're looking, we really are. There is this though. It was in the car. I thought you might like to have it."

From the paper bag she carefully pulled out an object that was barely recognizable as a toy model. Wings bent, glass cracked, frame twisted. He took it from her hands gently, turning it over until he found what he was looking for. There, meticulously placed underneath the viper's cockpit, in the tiny but oh so careful script of a child just learning their letters, was 'L. Adama'.

Bill gently ran his fingers over it before glancing at Roslin, who was staring at him with such quiet compassion that he thought he would break right then and there.

"Please," he said quietly, "you have to help me get my son back. Put my family back together."

She covered his hands with hers. "We will. I promise."

-BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG


	7. Chapter 7

**SFM Headquarters …**

"You're late."

The man caught sight of Lee standing behind Zarek, now back on his feet.

"Who the hell is that?"

"His name is Lex Adamson," Zarek replied mildly. "He helped us out."

"This is not the time for new recruits. Especially children."

"Damn insane if you ask me," Leon muttered audibly.

"He helped us out." Zarek repeated.

"Don't forget Zarek, you're not in charge here."

"Neither are you," Zarek replied in the same even tones.

The only reaction was a tilt of the head. "No. Of course not. Fine." He jerked his head. "He can go with Jonas to be processed."

Lee felt Zarek's hand tighten briefly on his shoulder. "I can go with him."

"You're needed elsewhere. The old man has been asking for you. Both of you." His nod included Tolkesky. "We're running behind schedule."

Zarek released Lee's shoulder, whispering to reach Lee's ears only - "Just do whatever they tell you. It will all be fine."

Then he, Leon and the other man disappeared behind a door. Lee just stood there as a kid, older than him, perhaps 14, came up to him. "Follow me."

Lee did. He was led to a room where Jonas ordered him to strip out of his bloody and torn clothes, and shower. Lee scrubbing hard until all the policeman's blood was off his skin, the water running clear.. When he was finished, he was handed a hospital gown which he put on. "We're finding you clothes." Jonas explained, "but it might take a while. Come here. Sit." In his hand he had a set of clippers. "For lice."

"I don't have lice." It was the first time since his arrival that he had spoken.

Jonas shrugged. "You're a runaway right? Been living on the street? You've got something. It's just orders."

Lee nodded uncertainly.

There wasn't a mirror so Lee just sat as still as possible as Jonas ran the clippers over his head. The slight tugging wasn't painful, and Jonas was neither particularly gentle or harsh, just methodical. At the end his head felt lighter and colder, and when he reached up to run his hand across it, his hair felt velvet-prickly.

Jonas wasn't talkative, but it seemed more because he didn't have anything to say, rather than unfriendliness.

He next found himself in a small white room, similar to the ones he waited in to see his pediatrician. But instead of Dr. Polly, who resembled Zac's teddy bear and always told silly jokes, he was examined by a tall gaunt man with cold hands who made Lee nervous.

He was weighed and measured, then underwent a top to bottom examination – ears, eyes, nose, mouth checked. Breath listened to, blood pressure taken. Throughout it all the doctor said nothing, only breaking the silence when he examined Lee's head, turning it this way and that with his long fingers. Carding and separating the newly shorn hair for a better look.

"A nasty bump to keep our eye on," he ruled, before disappearing. When he came back he had a paper cup in his hands.

"Here." He handed Lee three small orange pills.

Lee hesitated. "I'm fine." All he could think of was his mother. "I don't like drugs."

The doctor eyed him. "Orders."

Lee still hesitated.

"I see." The doctor said softly. He pocked the pills, then going over to the small cabinet, turned his back to Lee. The sounds of ripping plastic and clinking glass reached Lee's ears. But when the man turned back, the only thing in his hands was a tube of cream. Lee relaxed.

"One last thing, for your head, can you look down please?" Lee obediently bent his head, felt the man's fingers on his skull before one slipped down to his bare shoulder, grasping his arm with sudden strength. Lee jumped as he felt a dab of cold followed by a small prick, then it was all over. The doctor's fingers busy again, tapping a small wade of cotton over the injection spot.

"Son, you need this. You've had a very stressful day and done very well. Zarek has been very impressed by you so far. This is just to help you… adjust."

"I'm fine." Lee protested, if anything it was making him feel worse. A bit nauseas.

"Dizzy?"

Lee nodded. His head heavy and awkward on his neck.

"Rest a bit." The doctor helped him lie down. "It will pass in a few minutes."

He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there when he heard someone enter. He recognized Zarek's voice as he spoke to the doctor but couldn't make out most of the words. Catching 'refused', 'help', 'compliant'. He slowly sat up as Zarek entered the room, carrying a dark pile of clothing.

"Doc says you're ready to go. Here." He handed him the clothes. "I'm going to prayer, thought you might want to come."

Lee took the offered clothes. They looked like a mix of green army fatigues and a black t-shirt.

"Oh, the doctor said these were for you." Zarek opened his hand, revealing the three orange pills nestled in his palm. "You'll need to take another one in two hours."

Lee stared at them for a second, before nodding. Swallowed them with the offered water, started pulling on the clothes.

"See," Zarek said. "Just like I told you. Nothing to worry about."

-BSG—BSG—BSG –BSG

As far as Bill was concerned, despite her words of assurance and help, not much had actually changed since Laura Roslin left. Granted he was not longer handcuffed, and he was in a different white interview room, but other than that, it was pretty much the same.

This time when the door opened four men- Turgeon, and what looked like three junior officers - entered. One of them pushing a cart in front of him.

"We've searched your home." Turgeon said without preamble. "And we have found all sorts of objects that require an explanation."

Bill felt his eyebrows rise.

"While I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for everything in that pile, I've been on tour for the past six months. I've barely been home."

"Communications with high level suspected persons," Turgeon went on as if Bill hadn't spoken, "copies of Zarek's book, copies of his articles." Turgeon indicated the cart. "It's all there."

"That's ridiculous. As I told Roslin – I have nothing to do with the SFM or Tom Zarek."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did you speak to Laura Roslin?"

"Earlier. Perhaps 30 minutes ago."

Turgeon looked to his men, all who shook their heads. "That's impossible. There is no record of that, I would have been informed."

Bill gave a short laugh. "It happened. Unless you think I'm lying about that too."

"Look- there are political ramifications that you don't – you couldn't have spoken to her."

Turgeon seemed panicked. Bill wondered how he of all people had managed to become head of the anti-terrorist unit. Another man knocked on the door and entered, the distraction seemed to help Turgeon regroup.

"Nonetheless, diversion tactics aside Adama, we're here to discuss what was found in your house. Clear evidence that someone in your house was collaborating with the SFM. Either you or your wife."

"Impossible."

"Really?"

If Bill still had a gun in his hand he would have pulled the trigger just to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Then how do you explain your wife's suicide note?"

Bill started. "Carolanne left a note?"

Turgeon smirk grew as he slid a piece of paper over to Bill. The note was written in blue ink, feminine looping letters, Bill's breath caught in his throat.

"Dear Bill," It began. "I can not begin to imagine how you could do this to me, our family, and most importantly our boys. I'll never forgive you for destroying our lives with your actions. I cannot live with the shame of knowing you, knowing that my whole life has been a lie, that I've been used as a tool against my own family and my own beliefs. That I was too stupid to see what was going on under my own nose – and my family has suffered from it. I have tried and only failed. I'm tired of failing Bill. Of letting down Zac and Lee day after day, of living a lie. Of betraying my father and the trust he put in you and I. I hate you for what you did to me, for what you did to them. Gods please protect my boys when I cannot."

Bill pushed it back.

"It's a lie. A fake." But even he heard the uncertainty in his voice.

Turgeon merely smiled. "One last thing – our latest info leads us to believe that Zarek potentially has an atomic bomb that has been damaged and is leaking radiation. I'm sure you won't object if we test you for exposure."

"I live on a battleship with nuclear weapons, I am exposed everyday." the 'you moron' was implied.

Turgeon lips almost disappeared as he pinched them together. "Those reading would be discounted, and not impact the results."

Bill raised his head. "Fine. I've got nothing to hide."

One of the men raised a small wand. Waved it around once or twice to set background radiation levels. "Zero to 10 units is considered normal. If you work near secured nuclear weapons you'd expect slightly higher up to 20, but still quite safe." The wand was waved over Bill's hands, and he, as well as everyone in the room, heard the jump in pitch as it squealed.

"Seventy-five, Sir." The junior officer reported.

Bill just sat there in stunned silence as one of the remaining men stood up. "Commander Bill Adama, you are officially released from all duty under suspicion of treason. Furthermore you are formally arrested. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. …"

It was only belatedly that Bill remembered the toy viper that Laura had so carefully handed him.

She had set him up.

--BSG – BSG -- BSG

Lee was tired but calm as he obediently followed Zarek through the twisting maze of hallways. Zarek was talking, telling him about the place – not where they were, but its inhabitants.

"Our leader. He's very special. Very smart. Smarter than me, smarter than anyone I've ever meet."

Lee nodded.

"He's a hero. He suffered for his people, then stood by them. Fighting for them. We call him Aeneas, for like the ancient hero he has survived the destruction of his people and hopes to lead them to a better future."

"He's always been about peace. A man who built soaring temples, universities, functional sculptures to mankind for forty years until forced to pick up a weapon. You will learn that for all that the strong like to champion dialog as a solution – at some point you realize that no one is actually listening to you – and that is when you have to act. Destroy what you gave freely rather than see it twisted against you."

They entered a large room. Already a sizable crowd was gathered on their knees, praying. Lee recognized Leon Tolkesky and Jonas, even the doctor was already there. At the front of the room, propped up was a large photograph of a building. It was made of stone, the soaring towers speaking of elegant design.

Lee started – he knew that building. It was the government seat of the Twelve Colonies. He had been there.

"But there are people in that building." He spoke without thinking.

Zarek's hand landed on his shoulder. "Bad people."

But Lee knew that was a lie because his grandfather sometimes worked in that building.

"What's wrong?"

Lee just shook his head. "Nothing." But he couldn't stop staring, trying to imagine that massive building disappearing into a pile of dust, the people inside, their screams – the noise -

"You're getting worked up – the doctor warned me. Would you like another shot?"

Lee shook his head again. He was starting to remember where he knew the name Zarek from. He was starting to feel sick.

Zarek's eyes narrowed. "I think we should. After prayer. I think you need it."

Lee obediently sunk to his knees beside him.

"Don't worry – whatever happens- it's God's Will. Whatever happens, we are going to be heroes."

But Lee knew that wasn't true – heroes didn't kill people. Heroes saved them. His father had taught him that. His father defended people. Protected them. Everyone.

But his father wasn't here. So he had to do it. Had to do something. He couldn't let all those people die. He bent his head as if in prayer and started to think. He needed a plan. Every problem had a solution, he just had to be smart enough, sacrifice enough, and he would find it.

-BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG


	8. Chapter 8

A wee little re-cap a la 24.

But first some house-keeping.

One: In what is a first for me, more people have read Chapter Seven than Six. So if you feel particularly lost – you might want to see if you read Chapter Six.

Two, while I will try to get one more update out after this one, I'm about to do some traveling, so the rate of updates will decrease from 'manic' to just 'frequently'.

**Recap - What we know:**

SFM is planning a massive attack on Colonial Day, on the main government buildings.

Wee Little Lee is in way over his head. Guilt and grief-stricken, he fled from the hospital, believing himself responsible for his mother's death. He got tangled up with Zarek and the SFM (a para-military para-religious cult) on the eve of the operation. Has recently realized who he has joined up with, and what their plan is. The SFM has yet to realize who he is.

Bill is home for Colonial Day celebrations. Is also guilt stricken by the overdose and near-death of Carolanne. Fraught with worry over his inability to find or help Lee. Has spent most of his time detained since he pulled a gun to stop an officer from shooting at Lee (and Zarek and Leon). Was arrested when Laura Roslin planted evidence on him, tying him to a nuclear bomb & SFM.

Carolanne is in the hospital, still unconscious.

Zac is happily playing away at his little friend's house.

Laura Roslin is involved in some, as not yet clear, way.

The military/State/forces do not work together well and most likely are not on the same page or carrying out the same orders. (ok I haven't set that one up very well– but seriously? Do I need to? Are government organizations anywhere ever on the same page?)

We do know that the head of the Anti-Terrorist Group is a bit of a chump. But incompetence does not equal corruption.

Oh and Lee is currently being brainwashed by the SFM with conditioning and some weird drug (I don't know! I just make this shit up!)

KA-CHUNG KA-CHUNG KA-CHUNG :-)

**--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG**

Now Bill wore shackles on both his ankles and wrists, forced to wait patiently for the nervous intake officer to figure out how to take his finger prints. This was humiliating and the only thing that was getting him through it was his anger which had had moved passed 'boiling' a few hours ago and was approaching blind rage. Underlying everything was a growing dread that he would never see his son again. That with each minute that he spent here, Lee was slipping further and further away from him.

He was roused from his thoughts by a strident voice demanding to speak to whoever was in charge. He blinked. He recognized that voice – but it couldn't be.

"Release this man." Joseph Adama commanded with the authority Bill remembered from childhood, had modeled his own style of leadership on. As far back as Bill's memory stretched, no one ever disobeyed Joseph Adama. Hard eyes that could see right through you, pin you to the wall with a word, leaving you squirming in your own excuses. Currently he was staring down at the clerk who couldn't move fast enough. "Here is the Court Order."

He had paper stacked an inch thick in one hand, briefcase in the other, dressed in a dark three piece suit and tie, as if he had just stepped out of court. Nearing sixty, he was still physically powerful, a full head of grey leonine hair. His presence dominated the room, the cane he had been forced to carry in recent months somehow only adding rather than detracting to his power. With it he seemed armed, although he always said knowledge was his favorite weapon.

"Dad…"

Joseph spared a look for his son. Despite the shackles, Bill straightened. His father had never been in the military – but respect was respect and Joseph Adama had always commanded it with or without a uniform.

"Bill."

"How – how did you know where I was?"

"Laura Roslin called me." His attention back to the Clerk. "Can we hurry this up?"

"Roslin? That woman set me up. Got me arrested."

Paperwork approved, Joseph watched as Bill was released from custody.

"That 'woman' as you call her, did you a favour. She got you formally arrested, which gave you a legal status, which gave you legal recourse. Those morons were so overeager, they broke every rule in the book trying to throw you in jail. A law student could have gotten you out on trespass alone, never mind entrapment. Never send the military to collect evidence if you want it to hold up in court. Like bulls in a china stop. Chain of possession means nothing to those people."

"Dad- Carolanne, Lee …"

Joseph turned to face his son, the angry lawyer gone, now only a concerned grandfather. "I know. Bill Gods - I am so sorry."

"It's all my fault." For the first time he spoke the words out loud.

Joseph was shaking his head. "It's not. It's … it's complicated. This isn't about you or Carolanne, not about your marriage even if it wasn't perfect. It sure the hell isn't about Lee. It's about me – or at least this aspect of it is. It's personal. I wish I'd been here earlier, but I'm here now and we're going to fix this."

"How? No one will tell me anything!"

Joseph hesitated. "We have someone in deep cover. We can't communicate to him right now, its too risky, there's a chance – there's a chance - we will have a small window to get a message through. It's complicated. There are politics going on. We have to be so very careful who we trust."

"And you trust Roslin?"

Joseph gave a quick nod. "Yes I do. I don't trust her to do what's best for you or me or even herself, but I do trust her to do what's right, as much as anyone can. And that's the best we're going to get."

-- BSG – BSG – BSG - - BSG

This time Lee watched as the doctor prepared the shot. Zarek waiting in the corner, carefully observing.

"Your arm."

Lee held it out. Watching as the doctor deftly swiped his skin with an alcoholic pad before slipping the steel tip into the muscle and depressing the plunger. He didn't flinch, and instead looked over the doctor's shoulder to the corner.

"I want to come. Tomorrow. On the mission."

Zarek stepped forward. "Rest for now. It's been a long day, it will be a long tomorrow. An important day."

"Please?"

Lee let the doctor guide him down onto his side, legs curling up. He felt less nauseous then before -instead there was a welcoming warmth spreading through him. He took a deep breath, and despite everything clouding his mind, felt his worries evaporate - one by one, unable to hang on to them even if he had wanted to try. The sick tension in his stomach slowly fading. The constant heartache about his mother easing. He took another deep breath, exhaled in a sigh, and was asleep within seconds.

"He did much better." The doctor commented, when he was sure he was out. "Didn't argue. Perhaps we should rethink…"

Zarek shook his head, eyes clouded. "It's true that … it's easier, when you're young. But I don't want this to be any harder on him that it has to be. If we had more time, maybe, but we don't. Things are going to start happening very fast, after tomorrow. There won't be time to … help him deal, or do it later, if he needs it. No," he shook his head, "it's too dangerous not to."

The doctor nodded. "Let's go ahead with it, then." The doctor straightened Lee' legs, then rolled him carefully onto his back, removing the thin t-shirt as he went. "He'll be a bit sore when he wakes up, disorientated from the sedative I've given him. Feel dizzy, sick. You know the rest – once he recovers he'll still be calm, fairly suggestible, but not quite so out of it as doing the shots. His physical dexterity in that arm might be compromised, but he should be mobile. And in six months…"

Zarek nodded. "I know. I'll be back in the morning to get him. I've got some last minute reviewing to do."

The doctor gave Zarek a sudden embrace. "Good luck tomorrow. We have been waiting so long for this, brother."

"Too long."

"Too long. May the Gods be on our side."

"They are. After today, I'm sure they are. We should have died, today at the road block, but at the last minute everything just stopped." Zarek shook his head in disbelief at the memory, before nodding at the kid. "I just have a feeling that it was somehow because of him. I think he is blessed by the Gods. Leon disagrees. Thinks we should have left him on the street."

"He wasn't living on the streets." The doctor offered. "Neglect – yes, some. But not the streets. Or if he had, it wasn't for long. Not carrying enough diseases."

Zarek shrugged. "A mystery. Fitting, in some ways. A gift from the Gods?"

The doctor nodded, but when Zarek left, he turned to stare at the boy sleeping on the examination table. Shorn hair making it easier to see the childhood roundness still present in his cheeks, eyelids closed over those startling blue eyes which were the first thing he had noticed. The doctor tilted his head in thought. He was not so sure this strange boy was a good omen. No matter what happened, he'd be glad when tomorrow was over. He shook his head and prepared a shot of local anesthetic. If he did this right, his work should be nearly undetectable.

--BSG--BSG--BSG--BSG

Laura was waiting for them in what was perhaps the nicest office Bill had ever been in, excepting his father's.

"Now," he said, as soon as everyone was seated. "What is going on here."

Laura exchanged glances with Joseph, even as she poured them each a drink from the decanter, communicating something. Despite the fact that Laura couldn't be older than him, he felt like the child in the room.

Joseph sighed. "I'll tell him. It – it starts with me. We were close – back then, Isaac and I.. Roommates, both on scholarships. I was heading into law, he into architecture. We were both really involved in college. Groups, organizations, teams, everything. In our last year, we both got involved in one – it was supposed to be about social justice – what it turned out to be was a bunch of Sagittarians looking to organize campus protests. I thought the students were letting themselves be used, Isaac disagreed. I continued to go to the meetings, but I was only involved peripherally. He started missing classes, not coming home. Then there was the accident – there was a protest – an incident, an accident, no one could ever decide what it was called. End result was three Capricans dead, no witnesses."

Joseph paused. Reaching for his drink. "Everyone panicked. It was a sort of mass hysteria. Sagittarians were being rounded up, students even remotely connected. He was too. I don't know what they did to him, but he changed slightly. We drifted. I went on to my career; he became a superstar in his – just one building after another. We kept in touch over the next 20 years. But then – well then there was the massacre. He came to me for help, but he was caught. I tried to find out what had happened to him, but the government had labeled them terrorists and hidden them away. I could have looked harder, fought harder … but … Anyway - he always thought I turned him in. That I thought he – that he was involved in the attack that murdered your mother and sister, that I sought revenge. Then he just disappeared. His name was written out of all the books, erased off of all the buildings that he had built, all his accomplishments – gone. I thought he was dead. We all thought he was dead until the attacks started again, and the buildings – well – all the buildings being destroyed were his. Laura actually figured it out first – contacted me. That was 18 months ago. After the last attack."

The silence stretched for so long that Bill thought his father was finished.

"I never expected to hear from him again. But then he started sending me … stuff. Propaganda, or clipped out articles – at first I just ignored it, didn't realize what it meant. Bill you have to believe me that it never occurred to me that he'd send stuff to Carolanne, to Lee. That he'd target them."

Bill opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock on the door, which then quietly opened. An aid entered and handed Roslin a note. She retrieved her glasses to read it. Removing them, pinching the bridge of her nose when she was done.

"We have a problem." She looked up at both the Adama's. "The press have figured out that it's Lee who's been kidnapped."

"How?" Bill wanted to know.

"Someone leaked it. It's the only answer."

It was some consolation that Roslin looked as horrified as Bill felt as she shook her head, twisting her glasses in her fingers, in what Bill was fast beginning to recognize as a reaction to stress. "Damnit. I hoped for more time. This hands the SFM another bargaining chip that we can ill-afford."

"But why?"

Roslin looked tired. "Let's just say that nothing would doom an incumbent presidency during next month's elections then a successful terrorist attack on Colonial Day."

"What – you think the opposition is behind this attack?"

"No – SFM is working alone – they are far too unstable to work with in their current incarnation– no semi-legit organization would risk trying to deal with them."

"You sound like you've considered it."

"I have." Roslin said coolly, before continuing. "But working with an organization is very different from simply getting out of their way if it suites you."

"Call it what you will! It's still supporting Terrorists!"

Laura made an exasperated gesture to Joseph.

"Some would call it freedom of the press." Joseph answered. "A pillar of our society and ensuring responsible government.

"Spare me the lecture Dad – he's my son."

"Gentlemen," she interrupted. "There is some good news. We've been able to make contact with our undercover agent. He's seen your son. He's still alive, and he will attempt extraction tomorrow."

Joseph immediately picked up the phone on Laura's desk and started dialing.

"Who are you calling?"

"My office. I'm going to slap as many injunctions as I possibly can on the news stations – to delay the story as much as possible."

"What about freedom of the press?"

Bill regretted the question as soon as he said it. For the first time his father looked old, defeated. "He's my grandson. And I know they'll kill him just to get even with me. I know he will." His face crumpled.

It was Laura who reached over and laid a comforting hand on his father's arm.

--BSG—BSG—BSG

Lee woke up slowly. Blinking his eyes groggily, trying to focus on the person shaking him roughly.

"Get up kid. We've got to go. I've only got 20 minute before I'm missed."

Someone slapped his cheek. Lee blinked his eyes.

"That's Right. Com'on."

He did not feel well. His arm hurt, and his stomach was rolling uncomfortably. He wanted to go back to sleep.

"Go'way," he muttered.

"Oh no you don't. You got to come with me. There are some people who are very eager to see you."

"Zarek?" Lee guessed.

A low unamused laugh reached his ears. "Fortunately not, son. Try William Adama. Should have recognized you with your old man's eyes – right Lee?"

Some part of him realized disinterestedly that he should be more alarmed than he was to hear his name. Lee managed to pry his eyes open to see Leon Tolkesky staring down at him.

"Time to go."

Lee licked his dry lips. "Why?"

"Because you're the old man's son, and because he's gonna be so damn happy you're alive. You can call me Uncle Saul."

--BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Glad people enjoyed Saul's appearance! Lee needs a friend, dontcha think?

:)

-BSG—BSG—BSG—BSG

**Saul Tigh**

The orders were simple. Get the kid out without jeopardizing his own cover. It had taken all of 15 seconds for the transmission to come across the wire, and for him to acknowledge it.

The implications of those orders were anything but simple. He had to get the kid to the rendezvous point located a safe distance away, and get back without being missed. He had to do it on the eve of the organization's biggest op, when everyone was bug-eyed alert and watching for the smallest suspicious detail. He had to do it before sunrise.

"Where I am?" The kid asked for the third time, closing his eyes, swaying on his feet. "I'm tired." His head dropped.

Saul slapped him for what felt like the umpteenth time. And damn it but it was going to leave a mark but what the hell was he supposed to do? His ride out of here was showing up in ten minutes and there wouldn't be a second one, not until this was all over except the counting of the bodies.

Saul suspected that they'd give Lee something to help him sleep, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so powerful . Saul was a big guy, but nothing would attract attention faster then him sprinting down corridors with 60 lbs of Zarek's new recruit over his shoulder. So instead he wasted precious minutes rummaging through the drawers in the little white room, until he found something that he could recognize as smelling salts. He snapped them under the kid's nose, the kid jerked awake and Saul was able to catch him before he fell off the table.

"Is my dad coming?" The question fit with the earlier context, and Saul took it as a good sign.

"I'm taking you to him. Just do what I say."

"Yes, Sir." Was the barely audible response.

Saul checked the corridor, half pulling the kid along behind him as he headed towards the side exit on the upper level. His plan was to get to the roof, move along the top for half a block, down the fire escape he had already scoped out. From street level, it was another half a block to a ravine that was just deep enough to disguise the approach of chopper running in whisper-mode. Get the kid on the 'copter, retrace his steps, be back drinking shots of vodka as Leon Tolkesky before anyone knew the difference.

The kid was more awake, but there was still something clearly not right. One arm hanging awkwardly, the other wrapped around his stomach. But he was on his feet and moving and Saul figured as long as there was that, that was enough. Things seemed to be improving as the kid kept up through the stairwell, only to crumple to the ground at the top, pale and retching.

Saul gave him a few seconds, but when the kid threatened to toppled over into his own vomit, Saul grabbed his shirt, hauling him to his feet. Having a bottle-a-day habit had given him practical approach to such realities, as well as an understanding that there was a world of difference between feeling like you can't go on, and actually being incapable of it. If the kid was awake, he could run. They had to get out of here now if they were going to do it at all, and Saul figured that as long as the kid was alive, Bill wasn't going to be too particular about the way he smelt.

"On your feet and move solider." He didn't shout - he'd dealt with enough new recruits to know how to bark an order without volume.

The kid straightened his back and Saul knew he'd been heard. Half running half dragging him, they headed off down what should be the last corridor. The kid was still barfing and crying on top of that, but he was running. All Saul could think was that he'd rather be trying to disarm a bomb than dealing with this crap.

Ahead of them he spied the exit. They should still be able to make it. But Saul wasn't taking anything for granted.

Just because you had to roll a hard six doesn't always make it so. Not for Saul Tigh, at least. He has been many things, but he has never been lucky.

---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG---BSG

"What do you mean – I'm not going?"

Joseph remained silent at Bill's belligerent question, watching as Laura Roslin removed her glasses. "Just what I said. This can only be done under military auspices and you are no longer military."

"You owe me. For that crap you put me through earlier. It's your fault I'm suspended." Bill growled. "I want you to make them do it."

"With all due respect - I got you out of there. If not for me, you'd still be sitting in a cell in some basement with that fool Turgeon."

"You could have just pulled some strings."

"You seem to think I'm much more powerful than I am- "

"Don't insult my intelligence." Bill cut her off. "You got this whole operation organized within half an hour. Half an hour! The Joint Chiefs of Staff can't even call each other in that time, don't you dare sit there and feed me that line about being just a simple school teacher."

Laura's glasses stilled in her fingers.

"Fine. Do you want to know the truth? Even if I could make them take you, I would not." She stood up, holding a finger to silence Bill as his mouth opened in objection. "The operation is to send in a helicopter capable of silent running, pick up your son from the rendezvous point, and get out of there, leaving the SFM none the wiser. This will not be easy. There are 101 things that could go wrong in those few simple sentences. The people going in the chopper are a team, they've been training together for years for these types of scenarios. I believe that our greatest chance of success, your son's greatest chance of rescue, is to have that team and only that team on that helicopter."

Bill met her stare full on.

"You're wrong."

"Son…"

"Dad – tell her. Tell her she's wrong."

But Joseph shook his head. "I can't. I won't."

"You're making a mistake. Both of you. If he di-," his throat constricted. "If anything happens," he managed to finish, "it will be on your heads."

-BSG—BSG—BSG

They were on the roof now, Saul had snapped a second pair of smelling salts under Lee's nose to keep him awake.

"I don't feel well." he muttered, before vomiting weakly again.

"I know." Saul replied. "This will all be over soon. You'll be back with your dad."

It was the only thing that seemed to get a reaction. The kid looked up, seemed to come into himself."My dad?"

"Waiting for you."

The kid seemed to digest that.

"I want my dad." He said softly, as if making a decision.

"He's waiting for you." Saul repeated. "We just have to keep moving."

They were almost at the fire escape, just a bit further and they'd be out of sight, out of range.

When the first shot rang out, Saul wished he could say he was more surprised.

In the end what had betrayed them wasn't Saul's timing, or Lee's slowness. But rather an illicit cigarette, snuck between shifts on the rooftop, by someone just looking for some peace and quiet.

Just some bad luck.

---BSG---BSG---BSG

In the early dawn Laura and Joseph stood close together on the heli-pad, Laura checking her phone regularly for messages, a constant frown of worry wrinkling her brow. Joseph a solid, almost preternaturally still presence at her side. A short distance away, Bill paced the tarmac, head regularly turning towards the east, waiting for the chopper's return.

--BSG---BSG---BSG

They made it to the ravine, but things had gotten more complicated, now that Saul knew they'd been spotted. The SFM would be right behind them by now, and Saul couldn't let the helicopter fly into what was nothing less than an ambush without giving some cover. He left the kid half buried beneath some brush, telling him to stay down and wait for his signal before running like hell for the chopper. He told him twice. Made him repeat it back to him. Now that they were no longer moving, the kid was fading fast.

Saul triangulated between where the chopper was likely to land and the kid, then moved to higher ground. He had a revolver when what he really needed was a semi-automatic – but eventually something had to break his way. He double checked his ammunition as in the distance, the muted approach of a helicopter running in whisper-mode became audible.

Movement elsewhere caught his roving eye – the SFM had arrived, approaching from the right. No time like the present to slow them down – he carefully squeezed out a round. The helicopter was overhead now, doors open, the faint shadow of a marine just inside.

Now. Saul released three shots back to back - the signal for the Lee to start running for the bird. Nothing happened. Crap. He signaled again, then reloaded. He was relieved to see movement as the kid emerged from the greenery. On his feet, but not moving fast enough, staggering like a drunk across the uneven ground.

Frakk. He needed to buy him more time.

The blades slowed as the helicopter touched down, and through the hail of bullets that greeted it, Saul barely heard a shout of 'stop' echoing around the ravine. He could only watch in horror as Lee came to a clumsy halt and just stood there, shaking in the wind, looking back towards where Saul could just make out Zarek. Saul stood up to sight the shot, not caring that he was giving away his position in the process. He pulled the trigger.

Zarek ducked back down again and Saul couldn't tell if he got him, but he was pretty sure he was saying something to Lee, because damnit but the kid was still standing there, listening to him.

The fire fight between the SFM and the helicopter was intensifying. The level of noise rose as the blades picked up speed again, preparing for take off – Saul knew it couldn't risk being grounded and captured. This was supposed to be an in-and-out, quick and clean. No doubt they had orders to abort as soon as this looked to be going south. They were going to leave.

Saul made one more desperate move, running towards Lee, trying to get the kid to focus on him, to remember the plan, to run godsdamn him. A bolt of pain bit him in the leg and he stumbled, falling to the ground, rolling painfully onto the grass and rocks. Shots ricocheted off the stones around him, kicking dirt and debris up into the air, but the only thing he could focus on was the sight of Zarek reaching Lee, easily dragging him back, while other members of the SFM came up behind him.

The helicopter's engine reached that unique whine of flight threshold and Saul took the only option left open to him. Cover blown, injured, surrounded by the SFM - he made one last desperate lunge for the helicopter.

---BSG---BSG---BSG

Silence fell as Saul finished giving his report. None of them capable of looking at Bill. Not since the helicopter had landed and Saul had emerged - limping, clutching a bandage to a bloody leg, but alive - and Lee hadn't.

Saul looked up. "Bill. I'm sorry."

Bill shook his head. "No - not your fault. You did everything you could. Everything. I should have been there."

"Bill.." Laura began, but then stopped. Words failing her.

Bill lifted his gaze, fixing it on her.

"I knew it." The venom in his voice startled her. "I knew. If I had been there, he would have made it. He would be safe. He would have come to me."

"Son" Joseph cleared his throat. "You don't know that."

"You're wrong," Bill said. "He would have. I would have gone to him. I would never have left him. I know it. And now I have to live with it."

-BSG—BSG---BSG---BSG


	10. Chapter 10

--BSG—BSG--BSG

Lee didn't have any clear recollection of how he got back inside, too buried in his own misery, his stomach an empty ache, his head spinning, something smelling awful. Zarek had been there at some point, people yelling, until he had been grabbed, then dragged along, his feet tangling whenever he tried to take a step. He got an elbow in the face before he just gave up, letting his legs go limp, hanging in their grasp. It was just easier. Was his dad supposed to be here, somewhere? He couldn't remember.

He heard a door slam behind him. "Clean him up, then bring him to Aeneas. Make sure he's ready to talk. Get the doctor if you have to."

Things went kind of blurry after that. He came aware to hands, tugging at his clothes, holding his wrists, ankles, knees, manipulating his arms and legs one by one. He tried to protest - to kick, anything - but they were everywhere - too many of them and he couldn't seem to stop them.

"Stand still." Someone shook him, rattling his teeth, and Lee obediently froze.

The doctor's voice was arguing vehemently. "Look it's not my fault, I don't know what happened. He should have been asleep for at least another couple of hours."

There was a muttered response, but all Lee could focus on was the sense of relief as the last of his clothes slipped away, the hands finally leaving him alone.

"Fine. But I'm not going to be held responsible."

Footsteps. Then, "Keep him still."

He held himself still, but hands grabbed his shoulders anyway. Before he could understand what they wanted him to do, a pair of fingers forced his mouth open.

"Bit me and I'll break your neck."

Lee gagged on something, then choked as the strong hands pinched his jaw shut, then forced his head up and back. The pressure on his neck unrelenting. He was on his toes before he could stop himself.

"Swallow."

It took him three attempts.

Satisfied, they released him and suddenly he could breathe again.

All else was drowned out as a shock of cold water hit him. He sunk to the floor, collapsing in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. Awareness was beginning to seep into the cloud of confusion that had cocooned him the past hour. For not the first time that day he wished he was dead.

---BSG---BSG---BSG

Lee stood in the corner he had been placed in. Zarek hadn't looked him in the eye, instead he was pacing the room. Lee wasn't watching Zarek though, his attention was focused on the hunched figure in the center of the room. He had after all, never seen anyone in a wheelchair before. Not this close.

"What are we going to do?" Zarek's voice was raised.

"Nothing." The other man's voice was soft but carried.

Zarek stopped. "With respect – we just lost a frakk of a lot of intelligence to the government. Our location, our target, our entire frakking plan - Leon – or whoever the hell he was, knew everything."

"Tom – What has changed?"

"I just told you." Zarek's voice had a slight edge. "Everything."

"Nothing has changed. Nothing. He was a spy yesterday. The government knew all the same information yesterday. Probably days if not weeks before that. They didn't act on it before, why would they act on it now? Nothing has changed except that we know more than we did before – and that is a good thing."

Zarek shook his head. "Leon – he had to remotely arm the bomb. It wasn't done yet."

"Exactly. Do you honestly think he would have? That bomb would have never gone off tomorrow. That's when they were going to apprehend us. Standing around, looking like fools. It would been a spectacular coup for the government – a non-recoverable death spin for us. But now…" He paused. "But now we have a chance to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Zarek still didn't look pleased.

"Think of it as a chess game where we've basically exchanged pieces. Our bishop for a pawn. Now normally that wouldn't be a very good trade – poor tactics – one could say. Except this is the endgame, when different rules apply and accepted knowledge shifts." Now he was staring directly at Lee. "And unless I am very much mistaken, we have found ourselves with a very power piece indeed."

Lee dropped his gaze.

"No point hiding from me. Little Lee Adama, I recognize you. I know a lot about you, actually. A bit of an old family friend you could say. Your mother, Carolanne, your little brother, Zac. Your father - viper pilot, war hero, William. Quite a family to live up to. It's too bad your mother has not been feeling well these past few months."

"She's dead." Lee muttered.

"Dead?" Aeneas seemed surprised, but carefully took in Lee's expressionless face. "Of course. Dead. Tragic."

Aeneas pressed a button on his chair. A signal of sorts summing the man who entered.

"Lee," Aeneas said clearly. "Is eager to help us out today. I want him dressed to blend in to Colonial Day Celebrations."

The man saluted.

Zarek didn't watch as Lee was lead out, waiting until the room was empty before speaking.

"Aeneas – you know how much I believe in you. Respect your leadership. But I'm … not certain about this."

Aeneas shook his head. "With Leon gone, we won't be able to detonate the bomb remotely. What could be more innocent than a boy walking into a Colonial Day Celebration. It is practically his inheritance. No one will question him."

"He's a child."

"He's a symbol. And what he represents is hundreds of years old."

"Not even under Ancient Sagittarius Law can he be held responsible. It would be a perversion under the eyes of the Gods."

"He's an Adama." Aeneas' spat the last name.

Zarek shifted uncomfortably. "Aeneas, Isaac - this doesn't sound like you."

"And this hesitance doesn't sound like you."

"There are people who would volunteer that we have. It doesn't make sense to send an unreliable child."

"The police know our people."

"You don't think they're going to be looking for him? We just saw what they are willing to do."

"He won't be recognized."

"Besides - he won't do it." Zarek disagreed. "He may be only a kid, but he's not stupid. I think he would kill himself rather than set off a bomb."

"Yes – that Adama nationalistic brainwashing – no doubt. But he's still a nine year old boy – and I think you, of all people Zarek, should know how to manipulate a nine year old boy."

Zarek narrowed his eyes.

"He said that his mother was dead."

Aeneas shook his head, a strange diagonal motion. "But she isn't. She's currently in St. Xavier's. She's stable."

Zarek snorted. "So what do you suggest? That we storm the hospital now? " The edge in Zarek's voice hard sharpened. "Kidnap a high profile patient from underneath everyone's noses? Then hold her hostage against her son?"

"Tom." Aeneas shook his head, and suddenly Zarek remembered the wise professor from all those years ago. "What have I always told you? No need to use a battering ram to open a door when a knock will do."

--BSG—BSG—BSG

Joseph, Bill and Laura stood in front of the Director of Internal Security – who hadn't been pleased to learn that military assets had been used without proper authorization, the SFM mole compromised, and the terrorist organization itself alerted to their knowledge. All the day before the expected attack. All for a runaway child. All of which had somehow occurred without his approval or knowledge.

Bill would never apologize to anyone for doing whatever he could to save his son, and had spent the entire meeting boring a hole into the carpet with his gaze. His father hadn't behaved much better, standing in resolute silence, refusing to even acknowledge any wrong doing – gazing aloofly around the office as if this was all just an inconvenience. That he was far above defending his actions to the government. Which was probably exactly how he saw it. As a result most of the Director's ire was directed at Roslin, who took it without losing a hint of her composure. Rationally repeating her position, her reasons for her actions. Even in the midst of his anger, disappointment and worry, Bill had to admire her composure.

It ended when the Director kicked them out. But not before assigning two Military Police to follow Bill around wherever he went. "You're a liability." He had informed him, before adding with a hint of sympathy - "You should be at the hospital." It wasn't a suggestion. "See your wife. Be with her. We will keep you updated. This is a confidential op and no one here has clearance. There is no role for you to play here. That goes for all of you." He included Laura and Joseph in his glance. "Dismissed."

Bill had left immediately, striding quickly out of the building. Using the cane, slower, Joseph had been unable to keep up – only catching Bill when he reached the street and saw him trying to flag down a cab.

"Son – I want." Joseph found himself unusually tongue-tied. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Bill, who hadn't said a word the entire time, who had barely reacted to director's speech, straightened. "Stay away from me Dad. Just stay away from my family."

"So that's it." Laura sighed, as the cab bearing Bill pulled away from the curb. "There's nothing else we can do."

Joseph glanced over to her. "Doesn't sound like you. To give up." He offered her his arm. "Walk with me."

She shrugged, sliding her arm through his. "Do you know something?"

"Maybe." Joseph said. "Maybe not."

At her inquisitive eyebrow, he elaborated. "Tell me, earlier when you said you considered speaking with the SFM – who exactly did you speak to?"

Laura tilted her head. "I never said I actually spoke to someone. That would be highly irregular. You know this government's position on non-approved dialog."

"No, of course no politician would admit that. Would be a mistake." They walked a few more steps in companionable silence. "So - who exactly did you not speak to?"

A slight smile touched her lips. "I did not speak to Thomas Zarek."

Joseph gently nodded. "Yes. That's what I thought. Maybe." He hesitated. "Maybe there is still some hope."

-BSG—BSG—BSG

In St. Xavier's hospital, no one heard the knock that sounded on the door of room 602 - Carolanne Adama's room. It started faint, growing louder with every rap, before stopping. The door wasn't locked, and slowly it swung open.

---BSG---BSG---BSG

tbc ...


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Man, I really want this thing to just be over. But it's not quite there yet.

--BSG—BSG—BSG

It was a parody. A joke.

The clothes that had been found for Lee made him look like someone he never even been - a normal little boy, dressed up for Colonial Day. Blue jeans, washed out long sleeve shirt with a pyramid team on it, of all things. The hooded sweatshirt in the colours of Caprica was clean but worn. He glanced away from the reflection, it felt like the boy in the mirror was mocking him.

The manufactured image only started to fall apart around his head. His shaved hair too severe for a child. An eye blackened and swollen, the nasty bruise blooming on his checkbone. When he walked his movements were stiff and jerky, body carefully guarded, a result of the abuse he'd suffered over the last 24 hours, even if most of it was now hidden beneath layers.

Aeneas sat in front of him, a lopsided frown twisting his features as he studied Lee's appearance. Lee could tell he wasn't pleased. "A good solider," Lee heard him mutter to himself in his cracked, ravaged voice, "knows that a challenge is an opportunity in disguise."

He leaned over, Lee managing not to flinch as the fingers pinched on his sweatshirt, tugging him closer. He smelt like old soap, stale sweat, and wooden pencils, but his breath was minty fresh. "Here is what we are going to do."

Lee listened. Trying to absorb the details of the plan. He would play along until the moment was right and then at his first opportunity for escape at Colonial Day, in the square, he would find some one to tell. It was important to know as much as possible.

"Any questions?"

Lee shook his head.

"Excellent. Just one more thing. If you care to direct your attention over to that monitor over there." Lee looked as a standard black screen snapped to a fuzzy grey, then coalesced into a grey hospital room.

"Your mother isn't dead, Lee. She's still at St. Xavier's."

Lee couldn't help himself. He'd never believe anything these people told him but he stepped forward anyway. On the screen the image was jerkily zooming in, the shape on the bed becoming clearer. His breath stuck in his throat as he recognized his mother. Sleeping. Lying on her side, one hand on her ear, the way she always did. It was her. The resolution was good enough that he could even see the rise and fall of her chest.

"It's a lie." He said. "It's old."' Even as he said it he noticed her hair. It was curled. She had only had that done last week. A surge of hope flooded through him. She was alive.

"Do you miss her? Do you think she misses you?"

Lee shrugged, not trusting his voice. Not able to take his eyes off her.

"Would be such a shame if something happened to her now, wouldn't it? When she's about to wake up. But I heard that sometimes things just happen." Aeneas leaned in. "Do know how we got the camera in there Lee?"

Lees shook his head.

"We just walked in. Didn't need a single weapon. Didn't need to utter a single threat. Just knocked. My people were right there Lee, two feet away from her. Anything could have happened. You do this right, and we'll never go back. You do this right and your mother will go home, give little Zac a hug. It would be so sad if your brother never saw his mother again, wouldn't it? You wouldn't do that to him, would you?"

Lee shook his head.

"I didn't think so." Aeneas patted him on the shoulder. "You're a good boy, Lee. Your mother is very lucky to have someone like you taking care of her. Now, back to business. Are you sure you are ready? Sure nothing will go wrong that will require us to go visit your mother?"

Lee nodded.

"But I'm not sure, Lee. How can you make me sure?"

Lee found his voice. "I promise you," his voice low and cracking with desperation. "I promise you that I'll do exactly what you say."

"I don't believe you. I think you think you can out smart me. Or that someone will come and save you."

"No," his voice was high with panic, his vision narrowing, body exhausted beyond belief, his emotions spilling out of his control and he didn't care. "No. I swear!" He was almost incomprehensible in his desperation. "I'll do it exactly. I will. I can. I can do this. Please!"

The room swam, his eyes blurry with tears.

"Shhh…" the broken voice whispered in his ear. "It's alright. I believe you. Now calm down so we can get get you ready to go. They don't know it yet, but it's you everyone's waiting for you, at the celebrations. You"

Lee struggled for control, nodding in agreement. He'd agree to anything. If it kept his mother safe. Anything to not kill her again. To not murder her with his mistakes.

--BSG—BSG--BSG

"DAD!" The scream rang like a shot through the hospital corridors. Bill felt a bubble of hope surround him, improbable, unsupportable, but there.

The bubble popped, but he managed to keep his smile in place as the sturdy seven year old crashed into his legs. Small arms eagerly wrapping around his waist. Bill felt his heart lighten.

"Dad! I've mithed you!"

"I've missed you too." Bill bent down, picking up his son. Zac buried his head into his shoulder, arms hanging on tight. Over his head, Bill smiled his gratitude at Joyce.

"Dad!" Zac was tugging on his ear. "I had pancakes for breakfast! But Sally didn't!"

"I can't stay long." Joyce looked a bit frazzled. Probably from spending ten minutes trapped in a confined place with Bill's non-stop high-energy son. "I've roped a sister into babysitting, but I thought I'd stop by." She handed him some Tupperware containers. "It's not much. But better than anything they'd have here. I hope. I put some cookies in for the boys. If Zac gets to be much – if either of them do – just give me a call, it's really not that far."

"Dad!! Mine had strawberrys!"

Bill glanced down at the tupperware he was tightly clenching, feeling his son's weight in his arms, Zac's breath on his neck, his little boy voice still reverberating in his ear. He looked at the woman he had only met for the briefest of moments last night, in the worst of circumstances. "I…" he began. "I…"

She nodded. "Don't worry about it." With an eye on Zac she spoke carefully. "Is she going to be okay?"

Bill took a breath. "I'm just going to see her now, but the doctors say – they think she'll make a full recovery. Thank you." He finally managed.

"Don't worry about it," she repeated. "Just let me know."

Zac raised his head to watch her leave.

"Dad- I mithed you."

"I know, son."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Zac?"

"Where's Lee?"

Bill forced himself to keep his voice even. Light even.

"He's away."

"Oh." Zac frowned for a second. "But what did he have for breakfast? Do you think he had pancakes too?"

Bill had to close his eyes for a second. Couldn't trust himself to answer.

"Dad? Dad!"

"Com'on." He finally managed. "Let's go see your mom."

--BSG---BSG

"There is a paradox in the law."

Laura Roslin felt her eyes widen at the non-sequitar, but Joseph continued undeterred. They were back in her office. Both of them sitting on the leather couch. Waiting.

"The paradox is that any child used in a military or para-military operation is considered a victim. Usually they are abducted from their families – sometime as young as six or seven. Brainwashed, conditioned, forced to kill. They see disobedience punished with immediate torture, sometimes death. If they are smart enough, they learn. If they survive they move up the ranks, thirteen, fourteen year olds mentoring the younger children as they were mentored. Up until their 18th birthday, they are considered some of conflicts most tragic victims – parents dead or just vanished, childhoods stolen, identities erased. But after their 18th birthday, the law views them not as victims – but as the most terrible of perpetrators, as they repeat the only actions they ever knew."

Laura laid her hand on Joseph's. "We'll get him back. That won't happen to Lee. We'll get him back, get him help."

Joseph met her eyes, patting her hand reassuringly. "I know," he said simply. "I'm not talking about Lee. I'm talking about Thomas Zarek."

"Zarek?"

"I defended him. When he was 19. He had gotten rounded up as part of a general investigation. Cast a wide enough net and you're bound to find someone. He was up on charges of conspiracy."

"Did you win?"

Joseph shrugged. "Not in that sense. He was found guilty, but I managed to argue down the sentencing due to various factors. He ended up serving two years. I tried to get him to view his incarceration as an opportunity. A chance to reflect, reconsider. Rebuild his life. I told him that when he was released, that I'd help him. He sent me a note when he got out. Thanking me, but telling me he was going back." Joseph's eyes focused on a point in the distance. "He was nine years old when the SFM found him wandering around the aftermath of an explosion."

Laura tightened her grip on his hand, and he returned the gesture. "The world isn't perfect," she said. "We aren't perfect. So we just do what we can each day to keep our head raised."

"I know." Joseph said softly. "I do. Not for us to try to understand why things happen the way they do … but … it just didn't seem fair, back then. Still doesn't." He gave a wry smile. "Listen to me. Old cynical lawyer, still wanting the world to be fair. You'd think I'd have given that up a long time ago."

"No one ever said a goal had to be obtainable to be worthwhile." She hesitated. "Probably most of the best, aren't."

"Or practical, I suppose."

"No." She said. "Maybe just … hope-able."

"Young Lady." He furrowed his brow at her. "Are you sure you were a school teacher?"

Laura gave a genuine smile.

"I do not believe that is an actual word," he continued.

"Well," she lifted her chin, "maybe that's the point."

"But now I definitely believe you're a politician."

"Hope-able." She said. "I like it."

"Hope-able." He repeated.

Beside her, her cell phone chirped, she glanced down, then back to Joseph. "It's Zarek. He's willing to talk."

--BSG--BSG


	12. Chapter 12

AN: I don't know. This might be massively confusing. I hope not?

**WeeCap:**

Bill Adama is with his unconscious wife and Zak in the hospital

Joseph Adama and Roslin are down but not out and have reached out to Zarek.

Aeneas is the leader of the SFM, with an obsessive grudge against the Adamas. He got his clawlike hands into Lee, and he controls him via threat to his mother.

Lee has not had a good day.

* * *

On what he was sure was the last day of his life, Lee Adama, age 9, walked carefully into the sunny open square of the Caprica Government Buildings. The sky was that fantastic shade of blue that seemed to hug the world and celebrate the sun.

The plaza was packed. Families crowding together on blankets, baskets, food, spread out in front of them. Kids running around, screaming, laughing, dodging their parents. Kites in the air - splashes of colour against the sky, diving and spinning, as owners chased the grounded shadows. Street performers wove through the crowds, occasionally stopping to permit groups of people to swell around them before starting their shows.

Lee refused to look at anyone. Instead he locked his eyes on the stage on the far side of the square, then forced himself to take one step after the other towards it. '_A solider always ._.." but he couldn't complete the thought. He didn't know what a solider was supposed to do.

No one paid any attention to the boy walking up the stairs and across the stage. It was set up for the speeches later that day – then it would be guarded by a line of agents protecting the various important dignitaries and their words of unity and celebration. No one cared about the nine year old boy moving stiffly across the stage. He reached the center, and stopped. A microphone was there, and he tried to say a few words before realizing something was wrong, fumbling with it to turn it on.

Then he looked across the square, taking in the thousands of individuals.

"Please," he spoke into the microphone. His voice bounced around the stone walls framing the square. "Please listen to me."

Slowly the spectacle of this little boy, bundled into an overly big coat, one hand wrapped around his stomach, his voice earnestly projecting out of the speakers - permeated the crowd's awareness and one by one they stopped what they were doing, conversations aborting, dying on their lips, until even the youngest children sensed something unusual, silencing their crying.

"My name is Leland Joseph Adama." Lee heard his own voice break. "My father is William Adama and my grandfather is Joseph Adama." He hesitated, forcing himself to continue. "Those men are criminals. They are examples of what happens when society is allowed to run ri … riot over individual rights and –" his voice shook - "Freedoms. They represent the two equally corrupt branches of power – the government and the military. A government that lev – leverages it's military against its civilians to intimidate, control and … murder, needs to be held acc-accountable."

Every eye on the place was on him. Silence across the entire plaza. He wouldn't have needed the microphone, except his voice was erratically dipping and weaving as his self controlled slipped.

"These two men are guilty and justice needs to be done in order for a society to heal itself." He swallowed. "So… So…" Gods why was he shaking – if only he wasn't shaking. He unwrapped the jacket, letting it fall to the ground. He stood there shivering, arms out, not touching any of the carefully placed dynamite. Waiting.

* * *

"Dad. Lee's on television."

* * *

Roslin shouted down the phone. "This is not what we agreed!"

"He's not dead yet." Zarek snarled back. "You just make sure you do your part." Then he hung up.

* * *

There was utter chaos in the plaza. Parents grabbing kids, baskets, toys, food being left, trampled.

Originally watching via short circuit television, Aeneas smiled as local networks interrupted their regularly scheduled programming with breaking news. He tapped his headset. "Well done Lee." He waited.

* * *

"Have you got the kid in your sights?"

"Give us five sir."

The special forces team, lead by Turgeon, spread itself around the plaza.

* * *

Aeneas frowned. "Why aren't they shooting?"

Lee closed his eyes.

* * *

"Roger that Sir." Turgeon's steel blue gaze never shifted from the target. "We'll wait on order."

* * *

Aeneas' frown was deepening. Like a chess master momentarily thwarted, he pondered the screens in front of him, looking for what he was missing.

"Fine." He said, more to himself. "So they think it's a bluff." He spoke back into the microphone. "Lee - slowly move off the stage and towards the legislative building." He'd make them shot the kid. On live television. Let the worlds see who the real monsters were.

* * *

"Commander he's on the move. Repeated – target is moving."

"Hold fire. We do not have orders to shoot."

"Commander – he makes it into that building and we can no longer take him out."

"Understood. Wait for orders." Silence. "Alpha team – we're still holding."

* * *

Lee's walk across the now empty square seemed to take an eon. Every step he could hear Aeneas grinding his teeth into his ear piece, and with every step closer he flinched - anticipating the sharp report of a sniper rifle.

He was almost to the building when he heard Aeneas whisper 'Stop' in his ear. He froze.

"Listen to me. I want you go in, head to the stairwell on the left side of the entrance. Go down the hallway until you come to the third door on the left. I won't be able to see you, but one false move, if it takes you one second longer than you should – I'll kill your mother. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright. Go."

Lee hade made it through the main doors and the entrance way before he stopped again. This time in shock. There, a white bandage around a leg, beckoning him with one hand, while the other held a cautionary finger to his mouth, was Saul Tigh. Back, deep in the shadows, Zarek watched, out of sight, keeping his distance. The last thing they needed was the kid seeing him and panicking.

* * *

Roslin snapped up her phone when it rang.

"There, he's still alive, isn't he?"

Zarek hung up before Roslin could reply.

* * *

Lee hesitated, then shook his head. Saul beckoned again, more violently. Biting his lip, Lee obeyed this time, eying him cautiously as he edged forward until he was close enough. Pulling out a light and a magnifying glass, Saul peered at the tangle of wires, dynamite and plastic explosives.

He glanced up for a second, pointing at the microphone, encouraging Lee to speak to Aeneas.

"Uh. Sir - I can't … there are two hallways – I don't know."

"The left rear one." Answered the voice in his ear, without hesitation.

Saul help up a finger – the universal sign for stall.

"Uh … It's… blocked."

There was another silence on the line. Saul's hands were so feather light as he inspected the wiring that Lee didn't even notice when he finished. Saul rubbing his hand over his mouth, not looking happy.

He nodded to Lee to continue walking down the hallway, giving the kid's shaking shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then moved back out of hearing distance, towards Zarek.

"What does it look like?"

"We have a problem." Saul's voice was weary. "The bomb's been wired to go off when Lee triggers it – but also to go off if there is any drastic movement. If someone tried to grab him, or he trips, or the switch was bumped just enough to move the mercury a few millimeters – its going to go off. At first inspection – its not that large. Blast radius probably 100 meters. Unlikely to take down the entire building - unless very carefully placed."

"Aeneas knows." Zarek murmered to himself.

"I can deal with the hand held trigger," Saul continued. "But the motion detector is more difficult."

"I''m familiar with it. We've used it before. I'll take it from here. Where's the kid?"

"Heading towards the East Staircase, near as I can tell. Probably going to the lower levels."

Zarek nodded. "Makes sense." Zarek indicated Saul's leg. "You're not going to be any good, further."

Saul's face hardened. "What about Lee? I'm not leaving him again." He got to his feet, ignoring the pain. "I can do it. I don't trust you."

Zarek gave a ghost of a smile. "First half way intelligent thing I've heard from you." In one smooth motion Zarek, pulled his gun, shooting Tigh in the other leg. Tigh bit back a scream as he fell to the ground. "If you want to live," Zarek continued, "I suggest you pick an exit and start crawling now. Or not. I don't care."

* * *

With his eyes closed, Aeneas guided Lee down into the lower levels of the building he had once spent five years of his life designing and building. Lee wasn't carrying a significant amount of charge – but if set off deep, in precisely the right place–the weakest of the eight massive foundation blocks would shift. After that – well, it would be like a million-ton house of cards, tumbling down. Another symbol of repression destroyed.

* * *

Zarek caught up to Lee three more flights down. The boy was moving laboriously, one careful foot after the other, trying not to create a single unnecessary movement.

From behind, Zarek soundlessly closed his hand around Lee's mouth, the other arm wrapping firmly around the kid's shoulders, smothering Lee's instinctive reaction. After a three long seconds, Zarek carefully released him, and Lee turned huge, panicked eyes up at him. Zarek shook his head, indicating silence, before sitting himself down on the stairs beside Lee. Eyes closed, his fingers slipped up beneath the vest holding the bomb together. His hands were cold and Lee bit his lip hard enough to bleed in an effort to stand absolutely still. After seemed like an interminable amount of time, Zarek gave a brief nod, there was a barely audible click, and … nothing.

With a sigh, Zarek lifted the vest off of Lee.

"Three floors down." Lee replied, to the voice in his ear. Looking at questionably at Zarek. Zarek had the bomb in one hand, but in the other in was still hanging onto Lee's arm. Zarek pointed to the earpiece, nodding in encouragement.

Lee swallowed. "Where to now, Sir? Right. Two more floors down, then in the nook across the Basement Utility Room."

Zarek then took the ear pierce from him, the little microphone, and then with a light push on his back, sent Lee up the stairs.

Lee ran.

He made it up two of the four flights of stairs when the bomb went off.

* * *

From outside the explosion was anticlimactic – a mere burb or hiccup of the land - the forces on the ground weren't sure anything had actually happened. Then, shudders started to run through the building standing behind them. Small, at first, like faint ripples on a calm pool, but then growing, until the marble façade was rattling, glass shattering and raining down. Like a ship on a storm-tossed sea, the building – all its wings, towers and turrets - began to heave. From somewhere deep inside a faint moaning rose up, only growing louder until it was drowned out by crashing stone as first the left, than right tower came down. The roof shuddered from the impact, the suddenly extra tons of weight bearing directly down on its supports. There was a second when it look like it might hold before it too cracked open, contents piledriving into the floor beneath, pulling the walls down around it.

It had taken fifteen years to build. Was gone in as many seconds. Collapsed straight in on itself, swallowed deep into its very foundations until all that was left was dust in the air. Floating up into the sky, ashes from a grave.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It took two days to find him.

Two days where Bill was torn between the hospital and the remains of the government square – between his wife and his son - feeling as impotent as he had throughout this entire ordeal to help either of them.

Saul was found within a few minutes – covered in a fine white dust, choking, feet from the exit. But no one else. No he didn't know where Lee was, just he had been heading into the basement.

They days were a continuous torture of slow progress and false alarms, but Bill thought night time was the worst. It was summer, but still, the air temperature dropped, and surely Lee would be cold, alone in the dark.

It had taken two days of excavation, of teams of people carefully shifting through debris, before Bill had heard a shout. A rescue worker had pulled away a stone, revealing an airpocket. It was tiny, ugly corners of rocks jutting into the small space, but when the man had shone a light around it, he had seen a hand and arm in the murky light – small, like a kid's. He shouted but there was no response. It took another 20 minutes to widen the space, providing more access.

Bill stood feet away, listening into the conversations as they talked about stability, air, and access points. Finally a lanky worker who was six and half feet tall with what seemed like an equal armspan, bent down, reaching into the tiny hole, just barely touching the still hand enough to give it a gentle squeeze. There was no response.

"I can't tell if he's alive." He admitted. "But I think so."

Now everyone was called over, work doubling yet again, until finally the last of the stones had been lifted, or supported, and Bill watched as medics reached down and gently pulled his son's crumpled, motionless body from the tiny hole.

"Found a pulse," someone shouted.

"Gently, gently," they called at each other, supporting Lee's curled up position in their hands before laying him down on the gurney on his side. All Bill could think about was how little space he took up, how he could circle his arms around the entirety of him. Activity surrounded Lee as hands held his head stable, placing a cervical collar around his neck. Only once his spinal chord was immobilized did they start trying to straighten the stiff arms and legs from where they lay, folded up against his body.

The medics were cutting off his clothes, briefly examining his body for injuries, before bundling blankets around him. Someone had a light and was peeling an eyelid back. "Lee? Son? Can you hear me?"

Lee flinched, the first sign of movement, murmuring a high pitch note of discomfort.

"Reacting to painful stimuli. Dehydrated of course. Blood pressure low."

"You're safe, it's over." Bill tried to think of anything he could do to help. His heart leapt as Lee reacted to the words, fingers awkwardly lifting a few inches in Bill's direction before falling back again. Ignoring the medics, Bill pushed forward to grasp his son's hand.

He held onto it until the ambulance arrived, and he was forced to let go, watching as Lee was loaded up, the only visible part of his son his dark head peaking out under a mound of orange blankets.

"Please," he said. "Take him to St. Xavier's, his mother is there."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hospital had just been a whirl of activity, Lee vanishing to be evaluated, before being set up in a room.

"Very lucky." The doctor had said, and if Bill hadn't been so relieved he may have thrown up at hearing those words applied to Lee, or punched someone. "No lasting damage. No broken bones – just bruises and bleeding. We want to keep him here for a couple of days to ensure there are no complications from the head wound, make sure he's properly hydrated, eating and evacuating properly."

It took Lee a day to wake up. When he had finally regained consciousness in the hospital bed, Lee had blinked open his eyes, focused on his father, then wordlessly lifted his arms up to be hugged. Bill would swear that he had never been more a peace than when he had obeyed, carefully placing Lee on his lap, cuddling him like he hadn't since he was smaller than Zak. Just held him, rocking him, as Lee fell asleep, still in his father's arms.

For that one precious moment, Bill allowed himself to hope. To hope that the nightmare was over, to hope that his family could now start to heal itself.

But after that, Lee had started to withdraw. Complaining greatly about the hospital, saying that he just wanted to go home. On the second day Bill had taken him to see Carolanne. Who was awake and desperate to see her son. Lee had hung on to his father's neck so tight that Bill was actually having trouble breathing. Then something happened that he hadn't been expecting. Lee refused to go to her. Carolanne had started crying saying that she understood, Lee had started crying too, but wouldn't loosen the deathgrip he had on Bill's neck. That was Bill's first realization that things might be harder than he had thought. Things will be better when we get home, he reasoned. A hospital is no environment for children.

He had been reinstated in the military seamlessly (something he suspected he owed to deft hand of Laura Roslin), and had been given three months leave to help his family recover. It seemed like a very generous amount of time.

But things didn't get better at home. Even when Lee was physically healed, he still walked around on tentative feet, guarding his body with his arms. He was moody, either clingy and hysterical, or withdrawn and depressed.

At night, it was like living with a newborn baby – Lee would wake up at all hours, crying that his arm hurt, even though he'd been giving a clean bill of health. Bill looked at it at least half a dozen times, never saw anything wrong with it. By the end of one week they were all sleep deprived and Zak had been temporarily moved to the basement to try to give him a break.

Stressing things even further was that Lee was constantly picking fights with all of them, arguing over the smallest details – bedtimes, or brushing his teeth, or having to set the table. Anything and everything. Bill and Carolanne would just patiently wait it through, but it was too much to expect Zak to understand, and it seemed as if they were fighting constantly – Zak ending up in tears, saying that he hated his brother, Lee cold and unrepentent. One afternoon Bill heard the two of them arguing, followed by an abrupt shriek, then the unmistakable cacophony of sounds of a body falling down the stairs. Zak was shaken but not hurt, allowing Bill to comfort him while they both stood outside the locked bathroom listening to Lee sobbing himself sick.

Why was he doomed to never be able to help his son?

They tried seeking professional help, but Lee was almost impossible to take anywhere even remotely medical. Refusing to speak at counseling sessions, throwing tantrums at doctor's offices, hurtling himself against doors. Carolanne couldn't handle him, and Bill was forced to restrain his hysterical son during checkups. The bloodwork always came back inconclusive, it was exhausting for everyone. The doctors suggested medication, and despite their misgivings they tried that.

Getting him to take pills was a fight, so Carolanne ground them up, hid them in his food. It didn't help – he became even more morose and withdrawn, the sideeffects making him dizzy and sick. The fighting stopped at least. Still they caught him scratching at his arm.

They took him back to the doctors. They diagnosed depression. A whole new set of pills prescribed.

Bill got his three months leave extended to six.

Jospeh had offered to simply take Lee away. Away from the doctors, into the old hunting cabin that had been passed down for generations in Adama family. But neither Bill or Carolanne felt comfortable letting the family be split apart. Not now, not after almost losing it.

And besides, the pills, for all their side effects did make things manageable again - Lee slept through the night, was calmer at his appointments– which the doctors assured them was the first step to making things better. Or so Bill thought until the night when Zak had woken them up, shaking Bill's arm, telling them about a nightmare where Lee was hurting himself. Bill had almost told him to go back asleep before the words sunk in and the rush of adrenaline catapulted him out of bed.

They found Lee in the bathroom, kitchen knife in hand, slicing into his arm with dead eyes and unnerving self-control. Bill reacted instantaneously, knocking the blade out of Lee's hand, grabbing the nearest towel to wrap the bleeding arm in. The ride to the hospital was a barely recollected experience of a shaking and pale Carolanne, Zak crying the entire time.

In the emergency room a doctor stitched Lee up, gave him a sedative after consulting his chart, then pulling Bill and Carolanne aside, told them that he had paged a child psychologist, and that they should seriously consider admitting Lee.

Carolanne refused.

One doctor suggested electro convulsion therapy. They argued about that for days. Bill had finally given in when Carolanne sobbed that she just wanted her son back. And wasn't that what he wanted? What he had promised to do? Bring his son back? Were they going to watch him 24-7? If they couldn't fix this they'd have to commit him.

It was with that last threat hanging over his head that Bill agreed to the treatments. Lee would be anesthetized for the procedure, the doctors had explained, "he won't be aware" they suggested a course of 6-12 treatments administered 2 or 3 times a week.

William had never hated hospitals so much. The staff suggested that they not watch, but Bill couldn't stand the idea of putting his son through this alone.

The nurse was kind, taking Lee to the bathroom before, explaining that patients sometimes lost control during the procedure. Then it was the muscle relaxants which Lee didn't want to take. By the time they finally pushed the anesthetic, Bill was a wreck. Lee was shaking with fear, clutching his father's hand, desperately trying to be brave.

Afterwards Lee was vomiting, sick, complained that his muscles hurt. He was groggy, repeating himself. Seemed to keep on forgetting where he was, was exhausted.

Bill finally took him home, cancelling the rest of the treatments. He and Carolanne got into another screaming match that night. Bill insisted Lee would get better, Carolanne asking what the hell were they going to do if he didn't. That couldn't he see that his son was dying right in front of his eyes?

Lee had always been a bit small for his age, but he had always been sturdy. Now he weighed less than Zak, sharp angles poking out beneath the skin, eyes large in an emaciated face. Picking up Zak was like grabbing a Labrador puppy – all wriggling muscle, carrying Lee was like holding a stunned bird –with hollow bones that felt like they would break at the faintest pressure.

At six months, Lee still wasn't better. Bill's leave was about to run out. It was either report to duty, or be discharged. There wasn't a choice, even without the look Carolanne gave him of 'don't you dare leave us, leave me' when it came up. Not to mention the whispered arguments about money. The military didn't pay enough to cover Lee's expenses. He explained the decision to his family as a sort of early retirement over the dinner table. Zak seemed completely unconcerned, but Lee had stared down at his plate, eaten even less than usual.

Later, as Bill was carrying Lee to bed as he did most nights, when the nighttime drugs made him sleepy and it difficult to walk; Lee whispered:

"It's my fault isn't it? It's because of me. Everything that is wrong."

"No," Bill was emphatic, " – none of this is your fault. None of it. You understand me? You are a terrific, brave boy, and I am so proud that you are my son."

Lee just nodded listlessly, and Bill wasn't sure if his son hadn't heard, or just didn't believe. But when Lee was tucked in, when Bill had finished reading the nightly story, had put out the light, and had leaned over for one last kiss, his son reached out and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Dad?" Lee's face was so close that Bill could feel his breath.

"Yes?"

"I love you." Lee pushed his cheek against his father's. "And mom, and Zak."

Bill had to fight to keep the tears from welling up. "We know, we love you too, son."

That night, almost exactly six months since Lee had come home from school looking for his dad and found his mom, he walked back out.

Zarek held out his hand. "I can help you."

William Adama would not see his oldest son for another twenty years, until Lee and the rest of humanity, would have another, not-very-good, day.

FIN

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AN: Well that's it. Thank you all for reading. I think this qualifies as the fastest story I've ever written, and while I am sure it suffered for it (Zac = Zak among others, and not to mention, terrible comma abuse), I hope it was still enjoyable. Some notes

- yes I cheated a bit with Carolanne's death. But I needed her to be alive to keep this feeling of hope that things could still work out for the Adama family.

- Similarly I hope I get a pass with Zarek's survival. But I think shady ambiguous characters get at least one improbable escape. (didn't you know? The gov't building was built on an extensive network of secret caves that Zarek knew about due to his first job working construction – coincidentally where he met Aeneas).

- Sorry - No kara :(

- Poor Lee.


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